


Dying Wasn't Nearly Even Easy Now

by Laurasauras



Series: Temptations [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: "Enemies" to Lovers to Friends, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Imprisonment, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rimming, Roommates, Trans Male Character, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-04-07 03:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 94,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19077022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/pseuds/Laurasauras
Summary: It’s the middle of the night, and Dirk has gotten himself into a total mess. His habit of seeking out vampire sex has finally bitten him in the neck. Now Hal is trying to save his life. Dirk doesn't really want to be saved, and especially not from his wiseass roommate who hates his guts.This fic is currently on hiatus while I focus on finishing other ones.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Temple Grandin by AJJ (thank you, Dragon, for the rec!) and series title is actually from one of my serial commenters HALowers, who pointed out the overarching theme of temptation in a way that really stuck with me. Thank you! And many thanks to my excellent RP partner for both writing this with me and giving me permission to ficcify it and share it. :)
> 
> The previous work in the series is Hal's POV, but I asked and people were keen to see Dirk's side. You can read them in either order and I've tried to cover the same events in each chapter with roughly the same amount of words. I played Hal in the original RP, so a lot of these words aren't mine, but are shared and edited with enthusiastic permission. At risk of sounding like a gay cowboy, I love my pardner very much.
> 
> With both this fic and the other one, there's a few people reading who aren't about reading sex. I've tried to chuck ctrl-F friendly phrases that will allow those people to skip past the sex scenes in the end notes of applicable chapters. It's not about making it minor-friendly or anything, this is an explicit fic, but for those who want to use them I hope they're handy! If there's anything else I can do to make this more accessible, feel free to let me know in the comments.
> 
> EDIT: The story is starting to fork, which means that you'll get different information reading each side. If you're starting from the beginning, let me know how you choose to read it! Do you go all the way down one path and then the other? Do you alternate chapters? There's no right way! :)

Your fingers fumble before gripping the cool metal of the key to your apartment. You miss several times before you’re finally able to push the key into the front door. You grit your teeth as you turn it and feel relief deep in your chest as you get the door open. You leave the key. You leave the door. You’ve got more pressing matters on your mind, such as the fact that the reason you’re doing everything with one hand is because you have the other firmly cupping your bleeding neck. 

This is not how your nights usually go.

Okay, it’s not dissimilar to how they usually go, not up to a point, but this bullshit right here is not what you signed up for. Vampire bites, yes please. The high and the sex that goes with them, even better. The risk of dying … well, when you’re not ignoring that it’s there, it kinda works for you too. You thought it would be quicker than this.

You barely manage to get inside the bathroom before you’re on the floor. You yank the cabinet beneath the sink open and rummage through the bin of medical supplies inside. You can hear footsteps (because of course Hal’s home to witness this), but you’re focused. You need to find everything before you lose consciousness again. 

Just as you pull out the disinfectant, the bathroom lights flick on and Hal’s in the room with you. You’re not quite sure why you expected to be able to enter the apartment without getting Hal’s attention. 

‘What have you done to yourself?’ he asks, crouching down and taking your hard won disinfectant out of your hands. Your fingers close to grab it harder after he’s already taken it. ‘Sit up,’ he says. 

It feels like he’s speaking a language you studied in elementary school, like you have to run it through a really out of date translator for it to make sense, and once you do, you obey without thinking about how you generally don’t just do as you’re told; your thinking’s too fuzzy to do otherwise. 

Well, you try. There’s a reason you’re slumped over. It’s hard, but you think you get yourself mostly upright. It’s hard to tell with your eyes mostly closed. Why are your eyes mostly closed? You hate this.

He’s holding something to your neck, and even through whatever it is you can feel how warm his hand is. It makes you realise just how cold you are, colder than you can ever remember being, but too tired to shiver. It stings, too.

‘Sorry ... for getting blood all over the place,’ you mumble. Speaking is a lot of effort. You’re not sure you’re doing it right.

It’s not hurting as much as it was. You’ve injected one or two things into you in the past, and you’re familiar with the feeling of something colder than blood going into your veins, but this was so much worse than that. Burning, inescapable pain, all over, reminding you just how _everywhere_ your venous system is. You think it was the bloodloss that actually made you pass out before, but you were pretty fucking glad of the escape either way. 

You don’t exactly get what he’s doing at first when he places your hand on top of the fabric bunched up against your neck. In fact, it takes you an embarrassingly long amount of time to actually press your palm against the shirt so that you have some amount of pressure to help slow the blood flow. Bleeding out makes you a royal fucking dumbass, and you’re going to hate yourself for it if you survive this ordeal. 

Wait, this is his shirt. Typical that he’d be going around shirtless when you don’t have the brain capacity to even peek.

He’s on his phone now, and it’s getting harder and harder to stay awake. You’re going to turn. There’s no stopping it. You’re going to be dependent on blood and the majority of humanity is going to regard you as an abomination. You won’t be able to fully control yourself. Unless you die, that is. Many would consider that the better option. You’re not quite sure. You’re also not sure you have a choice.

Sleeping would be so much easier than doing any of this. You’re probably going to end up passing out anyway, so what’s the harm in letting your eyes close? You’re just putting off the inevitable. 

You feel the pressure increase on your neck and for a long moment forget exactly how it is you’re supposed to open your eyes.

‘How do I help you turn?’ he asks. You manage to figure out blinking, but your vision is doubled, maybe a different numbered. Maybe more blinking will help. ‘Dirk, help me out here, you stupid fang-bang groupie, tell me how the fuck I save you.’

You try and hold your neck better, but your arms feel noodley and you’re starting to feel a very similar pain to what you felt when you were bitten burn through your body. If nothing else, it makes you feel more awake.

‘How the hell am I supposed to know?’ you grit out. Staying awake is getting a lot easier as the pain gets worse. ‘I’m not some fuckin’ vampire expert. Just... try to keep me from bleeding out. Or call an ambulance.’

‘Half the websites say you _have_ to bleed out! I don't trust them, I don't trust the fucking ambulance either. They'll register you, your life will be over, I'm not …’ Hal breaks off, sounding frustrated. ‘I'm going to think about this logically. I'm going to check your ... wound.’

‘My life is already fucking over either way,’ you retort. ‘I end up getting registered and I’m fucked because everyone will know, or I _don’t_ and have to spend the rest of my life being a shady recluse so I can avoid the registration bullshit.’

You squeeze your eyes shut and let him move the shirt. The pain has you shaking just the slightest bit, but you’ll be damned if you say anything about it. The smell of blood in the room is really starting to get to you, but you don’t think you recall it being quite as strong before.

‘Or I die on the bathroom floor and my life is literally over.’

You swallow and drop your hand belatedly. It’s hurting more and more, but you don’t see any reason to let Hal see it. You don’t do anything as Hal checks your pulse, first on one wrist, then the other. You’re in a daze, too mentally fucked up to fully process anything. Your eyes have slipped closed again and you’re not sure when that happened. 

When you feel pressure below your jaw, something in you tightens and snaps. You’ve got your hand shaking around Hal’s wrist without any memory of ever moving it at all, and there’s this horrible fucking urge in you to do something _really_ awful that’s going to leave the bathroom even bloodier than it already is. You’re still weak and on the verge of slipping into sleep, but that urge doesn’t give a shit and is only becoming more insistent by the moment. 

‘I don’t think I should be around you,’ you murmur. Your voice almost doesn’t shake.

‘Right,’ he says, sounding spooked as hell. ‘Well, I'm not going to let an amateur just chew on me trying to find a vein, assuming you even know how to do the …’ He holds his finger next to his mouth like it’s a fang. ‘Give me my hand back. I'll cut it myself.’

You want to leave the bathroom and lock yourself in your room—or leave the apartment all together. You don’t know if you can control yourself at all just yet, especially with how persistent that urge in you is with trying to get you to tear Hal to pieces. You don’t _want_ to do that. As shitty as you can be to each other sometimes, you would never deliberately hurt him. Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, you actually care about him, and you would loathe yourself to the very core if you harmed him. 

You feel like a coiled up ball of nerves. Everything in your body is telling you to keep your hold on his wrist, to grab him and pin him down and rip his throat open, and being able to feel his pulse under your fingers is only making it worse. You may not know how to do what he’s referring to, but that doesn’t mean you won’t find out. You slowly ease your hand off of his and fold your arms over your chest, not trusting your ability to leave him alone. 

‘Did you not hear what I just said? That’s probably the _last_ thing you need to do.’ 

It hurts though. You hurt like hell and you know that getting your mouth on his wrist or neck or _anything_ will help ease the pain, but you’re terrified that you won’t be able to stop.

‘I wish there was some way to be able to give you just a certain amount,’ he says, standing up. It’s getting easier to track his movements.

‘You know, I always thought you had more self preservation than this, but evidently you’re determined to make whatever deathwish you have come true,’ you say. You press your fingers to your temple. All the stress of the night combined with the fatigue dragging you down has given you one hell of a headache. ‘You do realize how stupid slicing your hand open is, right? Because it’s stupid as shit.’

He sits back next to you and you see what he’s dug up to do the job with. Fucking hell. You can’t believe that Hal’s asshole gift is what he’s planning to cut his asshole self open with, but in a way it’s fitting for him. 

‘You can’t resist throwing a sprinkle of douchebag into everything you do, huh?’ you ask, looking away from him. You can _see_ his veins pulsing under his skin. ’You really shouldn’t do this. It’s possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had.’

He’s flicking the razor open and closed like he wants you to fucking deck him. Your nerves are shot enough as it is; the last thing you need is the sound of that damn razor grating against your ears. You want to slap it out of his hand because of both mild irritation and the fact that you don’t want to know what will happen when the scent of his blood hits the air. 

‘Yup, terrible idea,’ he agrees. ‘Just so you know, I have a message on my computer that in the event of my disappearance or death they should question you and I also have told literally everyone I know that too. Kinda thought I'd just annoy you into stabbing me with that cheap piece of anime shit on your wall, but hey.’

‘So... you’ve told what, two or three people? Big fuckin’ whoop. And I’ve got more class than that. I would never ruin a perfectly good sword by introducing it to you.’

He holds his wrist out and clenches his fist to make the veins stand out. Something in your stomach starts aching at the sight and you hate yourself because that shouldn’t look so appealing. 

You grab the hand holding the razor, keeping it safely still, and turn your head away so you don’t have to look at his wrist. 

‘Seriously. I highly recommend that you reconsider what you’re doing here. I don’t want to do this, and I’m pretty fucking sure that you don’t either,’ you say.

You hate that this is getting to you as much as it is. You want to throw up. You want to rip his throat out. Not metaphorically, either. 

You’re not letting go of his hand. You’re not going to just sit on your ass and let him carve himself like a goddamn turkey. You’re not drinking his blood. Ever.

He stops struggling against your grip and you think that maybe he’s decided to not do it, but a quick glance at him tells you that you are completely and utterly wrong.

To be fair, you should have taken into account the fact that Hal was still perfectly capable of moving his other hand when you grabbed the one with the razor. 

What happens next isn’t exactly clear to you. One minute, you’re seeing the first few beads of blood well up from the wound. The next minute, you’re leaning over him with your mouth on the cut and your hands gripping his arm tightly—too tightly—but you’re barely aware of what you’re doing in the first place. All that matters to you is getting as much of Hal’s blood into your system as possible.

You feel like you’re starving, like you’ve been denied any form of food for a matter of months and have just been given some type of sustenance. Your gums are aching and there’s this desire that you can’t quite smother to stay like this for a long, long time and drink Hal dry. 

You thought that being bitten was the best high out there, but being on the other side of it is like experiencing pure euphoria. The god-awful pain that had taken root in your body is gradually being soothed, and you don’t want to stop. You never want to stop. But despite how foggy your brain feels and how hungry you are, there’s still a part of you that knows you can’t do that. 

You would never be able to forgive yourself if you killed Hal. 

Even with that thought in mind, it’s incredibly difficult to pry yourself away from his wrist, and you’re beginning to worry that you won’t be able to. It takes longer than you would like, but you manage to slowly pull yourself away from him and press your back against the wall. 

He’s moving in your peripheral, but you keep your eyes firmly pointed at whatever you can as long as it isn’t Hal. You know that if you do then you’ll end up right back where you just were, and you doubt you’ll be able to convince yourself to stop a second time.

You become aware of your body shaking and have no idea when that started. It’s impossible to turn off the awareness once you’ve started, and even breathing carefully through your mouth doesn’t seem to help ease it. You can still smell your blood everywhere, but you’re not sure if it’s the fact that you still have the taste of Hal’s on your tongue or the fact that you’re starting to feel sick, but it’s not having the same effect as before.

Really sick, actually. Anxious sick. The kind that’s made you throw up before. You can’t do that now. You can’t waste what you already shouldn’t have taken. You press your head to your knees and try to breathe through it, fingers deep in your hair in a way that sometimes grounds you.

You should have tried harder to stop him. You’re lucky that you stopped yourself before you ended up killing him. What if it happens again? What if you kill him or someone else?

Hal makes a tiny whimpering noise and your stomach drops with the extra dose of guilt that gives you. You glance at him cautiously, and then relax minutely when your body doesn’t attack him without your permission.

The idea that you have such little control of yourself terrifies you. 

You watch him clean his face and neck and somehow fail to predict him throwing the cloth at you to clean yourself up. It’s a bit ridiculous. You’re literally covered in blood. You pick it up and press it absently to your neck, staring at the floor now that he’s watching you. 

‘... Are you okay?’ you ask.

‘I'm fine,’ he says, like it’s a reflex. He hesitates for a moment and then continues. ‘Thirsty … and tired. Could use an aspirin. Pretty good for my first time.’ 

You don’t believe him. You have to have hurt him. But he’s a stubborn bastard and the last person he’s going to admit vulnerability to is you. 

‘What about you?’ he asks. 

You shrug, idly picking at the cloth. Picture of mental and physical health, that’s you. Except you’re not any kind of health, because you’re not any kind of living. You’re not _human_. You’re not safe. This has to be the worst you’ve ever felt.

‘Contemplating sitting outside until the sun comes up or letting some anti-vampire group burn me at the stake.’

‘Well that'd be a waste of the blood donation,’ he says. ‘I've done my selfless deed for the year, I demand to be pampered. Make me a midnight snack.’

‘I never even wanted the damn donation in the first place, but you were like a fuckin’ toddler that found a knife. When someone attempts to physically stop you from offering yourself up as a walking blood bag, you should probably take the hint.’

You glance at him when he speaks, but you can’t look at him properly. You’re hyper aware of the feeling of blood drying and prickling your skin and you have a worsening headache on top of that. While you’re not sure you can face the kind of shower you need, need for more than just cleanliness, you can’t stand to be like this any longer.

You make all the movements like you’re going to stand up, but something isn’t working. You’re exhausted. Well fuck.

‘Fine,’ he says, sighing like a bitch, the way he does when he’s been put out by you using his favourite mug and not at all in a way appropriate to what you’ve actually done, ‘I'll pamper my damn self.’

To be fair, you’d be really pissed with him if he started pitying or babying you right now. Most other people would, you think. You’re not quite sure if this is Hal knowing you wouldn’t put up with that or if he just hates you that much.

And then he turns the bath on.

‘You’re going to take a bath in the middle of the night,’ you observe disbelievingly. He ignores you. Rude. He’s keeping his hand awkwardly on his neck. You bite your lip anxiously. ‘How’s your hand?’

‘Strangely fine, almost like the asshole that bit it has magic healing saliva or something. Feel free to lick it some more, though.’

Hal crouches next to you and you stiffen, uncomfortable with the idea of him being close under circumstances where you aren’t afraid of killing him.

‘Work with me here, okay?’ he says. He pulls your arm around him. His body is so warm.

‘I don’t need help,’ you tell him. You grip his shoulder, though, because you need to get standing anyway. You do what you can to make sure he’s not doing all the work, but the little effort it takes to move your legs and push yourself up has your brain feeling like a thick, grotesque pudding.

Now that you’re standing and the whole room looks like it’s shifting around you and that sickly feeling is a lot worse than before. You will not throw up on Hal. You swallow hard and try to control your dizziness, barely aware of him putting your hands on his shoulders.

The slight tug of your belt does wonders for snapping you back into focus. 

‘What are you doing?’ you demand.

‘I'm sorry, did you want to get in with all your clothes still on?’ he asks.

You frown at him, trying to make sense of the situation. You’re definitely no stranger to people undressing you. You sleep around. A lot. But this is _Hal_. This is the most confusing thing to happen to you in memory and you went through a pseudo-resurrection just now.

It’s not that Hal’s unattractive. You wouldn’t necessarily mind getting naked with him. And with him pushing your pants down and already being shirtless, it’s … well, it’s mostly weird. Because he hates your guts. 

‘You're going to have to stand somewhat on your own to get this shirt off,’ he says. 

‘Frankly, I think getting in fully dressed would be a lot less awkward than this,’ you say. This is getting fucking embarrassing. You swallow and take your hands off his shoulders. You don’t fall over immediately, so you’re counting it as a win. ‘I think I can handle stripping on my own. Unless you’ve got a thing for doing the most painstakingly awkward job of getting people out of their clothes.’

‘Maybe awkward stripping is my kink, you don't know me,’ he says. ‘You can take your shirt off in the bath, that makes more sense.’

‘You’ve got some shitty kinks. I can’t believe you’re unabashedly getting turned on to the near toxic amount of awkwardness in the air. How do you even get that kink?’

He helps you into the bath and if nothing else, the ridiculousness of the situation makes your general resentment at needing the help feel pretty unimportant. He finds something else to look at as you struggle to get your shirt off. It’s okay at first, just a bit slow, but it stings like a bitch and makes you hiss through your teeth when you pull it away from your neck. Apparently the cotton got stuck to your wound when the blood dried. 

You hand him your shirt and let yourself rest against the side of the tub. Hal didn’t make the water hot enough for your taste, but it’s not cold by any stretch and you’re fine with it. You close your eyes and sit in the silence for a few moments before you speak again.

‘Thanks for, you know, helping me out with this mess.’

‘I'm not doing it for you,’ he says, ever one to gracefully accept a thank you. ‘It'd be a real pain to have to deal with your dead body.’ 

It’s not as biting as he can be, maybe some concession to your current state, but you can accept the logic there. If you had to choose between helping someone into a bath or dealing with police bullshit, you’d choose the bath option. Even if the life involved was yours.

You don’t need to reply to that, so you let yourself sink down further in the tub until you’re submerged up to the middle of your neck. It really would have been more convenient for you if he’d let you die.

You aren’t particularly looking forward to your life from this point onward. You’ve spent enough time around vampires to know that being one is a royal pain in the ass, and being a newbie is no walk in the park. 

You hear Hal leave the room, but can’t quite bring yourself to move. You decide to allow yourself 100 seconds of floating before you deal with the gross, sticky feeling of dried blood that’s been freshly wet on your skin. 

One, two, three …

Your brain doesn’t shut up naturally. You have to fight it for control. You have to pin it with determination as you count. Numbers advancing one by one aren’t interesting, and if you were in a more energetic mood you’d probably have to choose a different kind of mantra. Even exhausted, it’s hard to force yourself to count out each number, but that’s kind of the point. 

It’s boring and it can’t fill your mind, but you don’t want it full or stimulated. Tonight has been fucking awful, but it’s happened now and you don’t have to do it again. You want to be clean. You can’t do that if you’re having a panic attack.

When you reach 100, you open your eyes and sit up. You start to wash the blood off. There’s a lot, slippery in places and tacky like old glue in others, and it makes the water disgusting, but it comes off. 

Once it’s gone, you feel at the edges of your wound to try and assess the damage. It’ll definitely scar. Another for the collection. You’re well past being self conscious of them. But this is on your neck, and it’s in the shape of a bite. Not the twin holes a maiden on an inaccurate and trashy bodice ripper might have, he bit you way too hard to leave it at just his fangs, but clear teeth marks. You’re fucked.

You can’t think about it. You’re not having a panic attack when Hal’s probably coming back any second. You fall slowly back into the bath and close your eyes. 

One, two, three ...


	2. Chapter 2

You don’t quite sleep. Hal was only going to get rid of your clothes, or so you thought, and even under more normal circumstances Hal is a topic that keeps your brain from shutting down. He’s been long enough that you’re starting to worry despite your exhaustion.

Maybe he’s giving you privacy? But his favourite pastime is annoying you, and you doing absolutely nothing is basically an invitation for it. 

It’s hard to track time when you’re feeling like this, but the water is almost cold enough to justify topping it up with hot water when you notice Hal’s back in the room. You sit up, holding the sides of the tub to keep balanced, and frown at his cleaning supplies. And he’s _using_ them. This is literally unprecedented for your entire time living together.

‘Dude, don’t worry about that shit. It’s my mess. I’ll deal with it when I can,’ you tell him.

‘“It's my mess,” he says, about his God damn blood,’ Hal grumbles. ‘Oh yeah, I'll just let you do that, no problems, I'd hate to be inconvenienced slightly by you just leaking your whole body out everywhere.’

He gives up on it anyway, sitting against the wall where he can look at you. 

‘If you don't get out so I can wash myself off I'm just going to hop in with you,’ he threatens.

You heave a sigh. ‘When you were supposed to be learning to talk, did your parents just teach you how to bitch and be sarcastic at every conceivable moment? Because that is literally all that ever comes out of your mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a single sincere _syllable_.’

You pull the plug so the water can begin draining out. You don’t think he would actually get in with you, but then again Hal’s done a lot of shit you never thought he would do. You’ve learned not to underestimate him since you started living with him. 

You begin the uneasy process of standing up after you get your towel. You legs waver a bit and you can’t bury the fear that your knees could buckle at any given moment, but you manage. Momentarily, anyway. You have to support your weight by leaning against the shower wall while you dry your hair, but at least you aren’t in any immediate danger of collapsing like earlier. 

Once you finish drying your hair—and it looks like a mess when you do, but you don’t have it in you to care tonight—you glare at the edge of the tub in preparation for getting out, and find yourself somewhat distracted by a feeling you only get when you’re at shitty clubs or bars. 

It’s the feeling of someone watching you, and a quick sideway glance confirms that you’re right to have it, because Hal is very obviously staring at you. You like to think that you’re numb to this kind of shit by now, but this is vastly different from what you’re accustomed to. With the guys you shack up with on what is nearly a nightly basis, you don’t have to see them again, and odds are if you do then it’ll just be an awkward encounter in the grocery store. You see Hal every single day. 

You get out of the bath, feeling more self conscious than you were before and wrap the towel around your shoulders and rest your back against the wall. 

‘Did anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?’ he asks.

He grins at you. It’s Hal all the way down, gleeful at the prospect of making you even barely uncomfortable. He lets his gaze drop to your ass, cocking his head dramatically. Jesus _fucking_ Christ. He looks back up at you, obviously to check to see if he managed to get to you. You roll your eyes at him.

‘Hey, is your bedroom light proof?’ he asks.

‘Possibly. I mean, I have curtains. I’m not sure what qualifies as light proof.’

‘If you don't know, it isn't good enough,’ he says. ‘Go crash in my bed. If you shrivel up I guess I'll get my money back on my curtains. They actually said they were vampire safe in the ad.’

Why the fuck—?

‘Migraines,’ Hal reminds you. 

Oh. Yeah, you did know that. It doesn’t really affect you much. You kind of have the market squared away on vampire fucking in this household. Or maybe it’s the idea of him having guests of any kind that made you feel kind of weird. You don’t really _do_ that.

‘I don’t have to crash in your bed, and I don’t particularly want to either. My room’s probably fine anyway, and is it really a bad outcome if I do shrivel up and die?’

‘I don't want to clean up your ash,’ he says dryly.

He stands up and unwraps his wrist. You’re still wary of looking directly at it, you don’t know what’s going on with your instincts and don’t trust yourself, but you’re curious. From the brief glances you risk, it looks mostly closed over.

‘Damn. I know most vampire bites heal quickly, but I didn’t think that applied to wounds inflicted by dumbasses.’

He ignores you.

‘My sheets are clean and I'll take your bed so you don't have to worry about me creeping on you.’

He leans past you, body close enough you can feel the heat off it, and turns on the shower. You’d move away, but there’s not really any room to back away to. He raises his eyebrow in a way that has you narrowing your eyes suspiciously. 

You make the mistake of glancing down. 

Oh hell no. He’s unbuttoning his jeans. You’re really not in the mood for this. 

‘Are you really going to whip your dick out in front of me, Hal? Is that really what your goal is for the night? You seriously need to find better hobbies.’

He pops his hip, still looking at you challengingly, and pushes his jeans down past his ass. His ass that you’ve now basically seen. Wonderful. You keep your face exactly the amount of stonefaced asshole as it should be and hope vampirism has robbed you of the ability to blush. Unlike him, you have the decency to look away.

‘Shower's on, Dirk,’ you say. ‘I'm getting naked. Your participation is not required. I'm a big boy and can do it all by myself.’

He kicks his jeans to the corner of the room and you can’t help but follow the movement, which has you looking at his legs, which has you trying to looking away and his chest is there and for fucks sake. Why is this happening?

‘Like you wouldn’t enjoy getting naked just to fuck with someone,’ you say. You wish it wasn’t working. Maybe on a normal day you could meet his challenge. (It’s not as if you would _hate_ seeing him naked.) But tonight has gone on long enough. You’re exhausted. You bet he is too. You’re going to do both of you the favor of backing down before this stupid thing starts. 

‘Try not to slip and break your neck in there.’

You turn your back to Hal and leave the bathroom, but not before hanging your towel back up pointedly and slowly because you’re an asshole at your core, you don’t have any interest in dragging the damn thing around and you’re not running away. 

You have to lean against the door the second you close it. And then against the wall, three more times before you make it to your bedroom. You get yourself dressed and sit on your bed. 

He’s going to have to get dressed too, and you’re not wanting to endure the same naked chicken game you just were an unwilling participant in when he goes to his room. And besides, your curtains are probably fine. You’ve literally never heard a vampire talk about curtains before.

You have pretty intense insomnia, but now that you’re on your bed you’re feeling something like vertigo, the room spinning like if you don’t lie down you’ll fall, so you make the choice on your own. It’s hard to keep your eyes open, especially with the faint sound of the shower acting like white noise. 

In the past, even with _unbearable_ fatigue, it’s still taken you hours to fall asleep. You figure if you’re falling asleep now, your body really needs it. You let yourself doze. 

… And then you’re waking up at the slight creak of your door. You sit up, brushing your messy hair out of your face. You somehow, impossibly, feel more tired than before you fell asleep.

‘Jesus Christ, man. I came in here to avoid your naked ass.’

You rub at your eyes and barely see Hal jump through your fingers. 

‘You're supposed to be in my bed. Vampire. Friendly. Curtains.’ He groans and leans his forehead against your door. Everything is a performance with Hal. He recovers from his dramatics and opens the door, pointing outside it. ‘Go.’

‘I don’t need a reminder. I came in here so you could go in your room and get dressed. I’m not about to let you sleep with your bare ass touching my sheets.’ You fold your arms over your chest and give him a look. The one you give him probably every day. The _I don’t have patience for your shit, Hal_ look. You’re too tired to care about almost anything, but the idea of Hal being in the place you’re most comfortable is hard enough to get past your various neuroses without bringing nudity into the equation. 

‘I’m not moving until you put something on that isn’t a towel. Get your ass dressed and I’ll go to your room.’

He looks like he wants to fight you. You can practically see him sifting through insults. But you can see that he’s tired, too, in every line of his usually much more confident posture. He gives in and leaves your room.

You kept a tally for how often Hal gave in without having a tantrum for a while. It was and remains to be a rare occasion, but you’ve lived together for long enough now that you stopped keeping score. It was pretty petty and you’ve eased off on both sides. You manage to communicate sometimes. In all honesty, you think being able to pick a fight with Hal with zero real feelings hurt on either of your part is what keeps you from fighting with the rest of the world. 

It’s hard to stay awake while he’s gone. You don’t let yourself lie down again, but you nearly fall asleep sitting up, your head drifting down to your chest and only the sensation of falling sideways jolting you back awake. 

You look him over when he comes back in the room in his pajamas and rubbing at his hair with his towel. It’s kind of reassuring to be reminded that he owns pajamas, given that you’re about to sleep in his bed. 

You’re satisfied, anyway, which means you need to hold up your end of the bargain. You will not fall over walking to his bed. You stand up, almost steadily, and move past him to his room. 

You barely notice Hal fixing his curtains for you as you climb onto his bed. Feels fucking weird to be getting in his sheets when you’ve barely crossed his threshold before. You sit on the edge, resigning yourself to staying awake thinking about … well, _everything_ , despite how tired you are. 

You jump when you hear Hal’s voice and realise he never left the room. 

‘Can I sleep in here with you?’

You stare at him, trying to figure his angle here. His voice was quiet, and you can’t see any hint of his usual bullshit on his face. Why would he want to? Because he doesn’t want to be in your bed? But it was his idea … It takes you too long to realise that you can (and should) just ask him.

‘... Why?’

‘I don't want nightmares,’ he says hesitantly. He won’t look at you at all. ‘There was a lot of blood ... I promise I'm not a cuddler but we could put pillows down the middle of the bed if you're worried about space … Please.’

You’re having a hard time piecing this together in your head. 

You’re suspicious. If it was literally any other person asking this, you think you would believe them. Maybe. You’re inherently suspicious of other people’s intentions, but that doesn’t matter here. It’s something you would never expect Hal to ask you. He’s /never/ done anything like this before. He has to have some kind of ulterior motive for this, but ... you don’t think Hal would bother hiding something like that either. 

Shit, did he actually say _please_?

Fuck, you hadn’t considered that walking in covered in blood might have fucked him up. You feel bad that he doesn’t have an option other than you for this. 

Jesus Christ, Dirk, stop staring at him and give the poor guy a break.

You nod, rubbing the back of your neck in a nervous gesture you can’t seem to kick. 

‘I ... guess. If you really want to. I don’t give a shit about the space thing though; there’s worse to wake up to than someone being a little close.’

He nods and gets in the opposite side to you, lying down with quick, jerky movements. He doesn’t look comfortable about this at all, but you guess he’s decided it’s better than the alternative.

You lie down too, facing away from him and try not to think about it too much. You’re grateful for the fact that you’re on the verge of passing out. If you weren’t, you’d be agonizing over this a lot more than you are. There’s a little buzz of anxiety in your head as you get settled on your side, but it’s difficult to pay attention to through the thick fog of your fatigue. 

You’re used to sharing a bed with someone else. You’ve done it on nights that you’ve been too high or otherwise to get yourself home safely, or when it’s just been really fucking late. You try not to let yourself worry too much about what position you’re laying in or how close you are anymore because it just keeps you awake. 

It’s different with Hal, of course. Or it should be. You’re just fucking tired, so it’s hard to stress. 

You close your eyes and feel yourself starting to doze immediately. His sheets smell nice, not that different to yours because you use the same washing powder, but there’s something else as well, probably his cheap shampoo. You’re warm for the first time since you were bitten too, even the bath didn’t quite shake the coldness, and …

You’re not admitting it to anyone, of course, but it’s something like comforting to have someone near you. Maybe even Hal specifically. He takes every opportunity to mess with you on a day to day level, but he’s … not _trustworthy_ , not quite, though he’s never been late on a payment or gone back on his word and you wouldn’t live with someone you couldn’t trust a _bit_. It’s just that you’re used to him. Everything about this is strange and too close, but on a different level it’s familiar. It’s comforting. 

You probably should have warned him that while he might not be a cuddler, you totally are. Maybe you’ll manage not to. It’s too late to warn him or do anything about it, you’re falling asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit trans man vampire sex. Because of the biting and the venom, it could be viewed as dub con. If that isn't your thing and you want to skip, it begins roughly at: "He touches you on your hip and pulls you in closer." and ends with, "You just love the affection."
> 
> If you've read the other work in this series or picked up on the stuff from the previous two chapters, you know that Dirk is not a very mentally healthy guy. As this is his point of view, it might be a bit more confronting than Hal's version of the story.

You were right to think that you wouldn’t sleep that long, because you wake up around 8:00 with your arms around Hal. Your mouth is aching and there’s that insistent part of your brain telling you that you’re hungry, but you’re too dazed to do anything about it. Hal’s scent being all around you isn’t helping with the hungry part. You’re half-asleep, and removing your limbs from where they’re resting around him doesn’t even occur to you. Somehow, you manage to drift off again before you do anything stupid. 

When you wake up again, it’s to the confusing sensation of your arm being moved without you doing it. Oh, it’s Hal. You shift so that you’re lying on your back and drape your arm over your face. You can smell him everywhere and it’s making your stomach sink claws into the rest of you. It doesn’t help at all that you’re laying in his bed directly next to him, and so you make a piss-poor effort at moving further away from him by rolling onto your side. 

That was probably the best you’ve slept in a long, long time, you don’t even think you dreamt. But this is the worst you’ve ever woken up. The undeniable urge to tear Hal’s throat open has you completely, shockingly awake. 

You clench your teeth, only to discover that your mouth is sore as hell and there’s something _sharp_ in there. You almost reach in to pull whatever the fuck that is out, but you realize with a start that it’s your new fangs. 

You need to get out of here before you do something you regret.

Hal sits up. You’re unbearably aware of where he is, of his weight on the bed and the air he disturbs by moving. 

‘Stay in the room,’ he mumbles. ‘Sun.’

He leaves, unsteady on his feet with tiredness in a way that your body screams at you would make him very easy to catch, and you breathe a little deeper.

You can still smell him on everything in this room. And he’s going to come back.

You can’t stop thinking about killing him. Feeding on him. You can’t be here, you’d rather get burnt to ash than attack him the moment he comes back. 

You stumble as you stand, but you’re not weak like you were last night, just waking up. You cover your mouth and nose with your hands and think. The bathroom’s closest but there’s no way to stay out of the sun in there. Your next best bet is your room, if you can manage to get inside it without dying on the way.

The longer you’re in this room, the more likely you think it is that you’ll snap, so you force yourself to move. You check that Hal’s not in the hall before you step into it and get to your room as quickly as possible. 

Sunlight fucking _hurts_.

It’s bright, bright as if you’re staring directly at the sun even though you’re in indirect light, and you’re sincerely worried that if you haven’t just killed yourself, you might have at least damaged your eyes. 

You stagger into your room and go for the only place where you think you’ll be safe: your closet. You slam the door closed and sink down to your knees, gasping for breath, hands held nervously in front of your face. You can’t see if your skin is blistered and you’re scared to touch your face. It feels worse than the worst sunburn you’ve ever had, and your head is throbbing. You fall gently back into the wall and groan quietly. It smells of _burning_ and musty enclosed space, but you’re so grateful to be safe.

Safe is a relative term though. You’re so fucking sore. Sunburn isn’t a good enough comparison, actually, you feel like someone poured a gallon of gasoline on you and set you on fire. It’s not like you’ve had that happen before, but you’re assuming this is the closest you can get to the experience. 

You have to take slow, deep breaths because it feels like even your lungs are burning. What you felt last night is nothing compared to this, but it isn’t nearly as bad as it was while you were still in the sunlight. That was pure agony. This hurts, but it’s the aftermath. The aftermath never hurts quite as much, right? 

You swallow hard. It’s slowly getting better. Your skin might still feel like it’s prickling, but it’s getting better. You think. And your breathing is coming easier, less raspy. Your eyes are adjusting to the dark, and you’re pretty fucking grateful to be able to see.

Your skin looks charred on your arms and hands. You hold your palms up to your face and feel the heat coming off it, but when you touch it, it’s not wet like it’s blistered or bleeding. And not quite as sensitive as the burns on your arms, either. 

When you look closer at yourself, you can see that the burns are... healing? That has to be what’s happening, because the charred parts of your skin are fading in color and they continue fading until it looks like all you have is a minor sunburn, and even that looks like it’s going away too. So brief exposure to the sun is okay as long as you can get somewhere dark immediately after. It just hurts like a motherfucker and smells really bad. You’re surprised you didn’t set off the smoke detector.

You smell Hal before you hear him call your name. You grit your teeth against the urge to lunge for him and hiss as your fangs catch on your lips. 

‘You need to get out. _Now_ ,’ you say firmly. You’re fidgeting and shaking. ‘Get the _fuck_ out of here before I end up decking your ass.’

He makes a strange choked sound and you hear your mattress creak like he’s sat on it. He’s not leaving. You dig your fingers into your palms and avoid the actually unexaggerated danger of biting a hole through your lip. You’d really like for your fangs to go away again. You have no idea how to make that happen.

‘Can you please just bite me now when I know it's coming? Surely that's better than you becoming rabid or something and not having the control to ... go gentle on me.’

You frown and pull your knees to your chest. It _would_ be better to bite him now and get it over with than wait until you can’t control yourself anymore, but you don’t want to bite him at all. You don’t trust yourself enough. You don’t want to hurt him, and you definitely don’t want to kill him. You don’t even know what you’d do if you managed to kill him.

‘Can you not phrase it like that? It just sounds gross when you say it in that way.’ You push at a fang with your finger, but it doesn’t budge at all. Great. ‘I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to fuck up and kill you or …’ You pause. God, what if you accidentally turn him? You don’t know if that’s worse than death or not. ‘I don’t trust myself.’

Is thinking and talking helping? You’re not sure, but you’re not feeling like you’re having to hold yourself back from bursting out of the closet like you were when you first smelled him in your room. 

‘I can cut myself again,’ he says, ‘but if you can bite me that might be better. You probably need to learn at some point and I think the fangs might have the happy juice in them. Not a chance people are becoming groupies for what I did last night.’

You stiffen at his suggestion. There is absolutely no way you’re letting him cut himself again. You know that had to hurt him pretty badly. Additionally, you feel like you have less control over yourself that way. It’s not like your brain gave you a ‘no thanks’ option last night when he slit his wrist open. The moment his blood hit the air, you were on autopilot. You know that if you bite him that it’ll be the same way, but at least you won’t be jumping him over a cut. 

And he has a point. If you’re going to keep living like this, you aren’t going to make any progress by not biting him. Odds are that the only thing you’ll succeed in doing is prolonging this hellish stage of vampirism, and that doesn’t sound ideal to you. You would prefer to stop being an immediate danger to everyone around you sooner rather than later. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have worked so hard to get out of the sun. You wouldn’t need to feed on anyone if you had just died.

‘I don’t want you cutting yourself again. That was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen you do, and you’ve done your fair share of stupid shit. I don’t particularly want to do the alternative either, but …’

You keep fighting, don’t you? On some level. The thought of death by sunlight was a lot easier than actually being in it, but you weren’t trying to kill yourself, just trying _not_ to kill Hal. You don’t know what else to say. You always hate it when Hal’s right.

‘I can’t exactly bite you efficiently from inside the closet. Is it at least dim enough out there that I won’t get fried? ‘Cause that fuckin’ sucked ass.’

‘You can come out of the closet, Dirk. This is a safe place.’

You roll your eyes and get to your feet. 

‘I don’t think anywhere is a safe place if you’re around,’ you retort. 

You aren’t looking forward to this by any means, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t somewhat curious about it. You’ve always been on the receiving end when it comes to vampire bites, so you don’t know what biting someone is like. You drank Hal’s blood last night, sure, but that was a different situation since the idiot took a razor to his wrist. 

You hesitate, palm on the door of the closet. You’re still jittery and you can tell that there’s some faint pink burns on your skin that haven’t fully faded away yet, but at least you don’t look like you were recently in a house fire. That would suck. 

You open the door. The room’s dark, but not nearly as dark as Hal’s. You’re seeing his point about vampire safe curtains now; even without stepping out of the closet you can feel an uncomfortable prickle on your skin. 

It pales in comparison to the dread you’re feeling, heavy in your stomach. And that feeling has nothing on your hunger.

You step out slowly, forcing yourself to be aware of your movements and your control over them. You won’t be like last night. You’re fixated on him to an uncomfortable level, in a way you never have been before. You can see his wariness, his pupils are wide and he’s breathing kind of shallow. It’s fucked up that his fear looks so much like attraction.

You stop in front of him and keep your fangs and your hands to your damn self.

‘Is there, uh, a specific place you want me to do this?’ you ask, to be polite. 

‘I've never …’ he says haltingly. He swallows and you can’t help but track the movement. It’s hard to drag your eyes away from his neck again. ‘Just do what comes naturally,’ he advises.

You’ve always hated doing things for the first time. You don’t make a habit of doing things in front of people that you haven’t practiced beforehand. But at least in this case, he’s clearly as clueless as you. More so, even. 

You’re going to bite him. Somewhere. You’re not certain where you should do it. It feels “natural” to go for the neck, if only because that’s what you’ve experienced, but you’re worried that you’ll increase the likelihood of killing him that way. Then again, literally any other place you could bite him comes with the risk of him dying anyway. You suppose the possible death part goes hand in hand with blood loss. 

‘I don’t know what comes naturally,’ you say. ‘Everyone I’ve ever done it with typically bites the neck, but …’

But they also always fucked you afterwards. It seems too intimate. But where else are you going to bite him? His wrist was honestly kind of awkward and the only other place you can think of is his upper thigh, which _no_. God, you’re giving yourself a headache. You nod.

‘Punch me if you start to feel like you’re going to pass out.’

‘Got it,’ he says, shifting back so he’s more solidly on your bed. He fidgets uncertainly, not looking at you directly, before tilting his head to the side.

That’s … yeah. You can’t quite look away and you’re pretty sure those instincts you thought you didn’t have are pulling you towards him. 

You sit down next to him on the bed and take a deep breath. This sucks. The longer you sit around and wait though, the more it sucks. You really need to do this before Hal starts bitching about his neck cramping, but you don’t know how. It feels so weird to just bite his neck, but how else are you supposed to do it? You feel like a high school virgin having his first time in the school bathroom at prom. You just need to do it and get it over with.

‘Sorry about this,’ you mutter, leaning in closer to him. You force yourself to stop again, testing your control, and keep it slow as you close the distance between your lips and his neck.

It’s almost a kiss. You hesitate, just barely touching him, but you can’t ignore the ache inside you urging you forward. You press your fangs against his skin and push down. 

After that, you can’t form any coherent thoughts. All you care about is the fluid entering your mouth.

You’ve always wondered if vampires got anything out of biting people apart from nutrition. You assumed it had to be somewhat pleasurable, and God knows the idea of biting someone and sending them into horny mindlessness sounds like enough to make it worth it on that other level, but you never really thought their experience was as strong as it felt for you. 

Christ, you were dead fucking wrong about that, weren’t you?

This is absolutely nothing like last night. Drinking from the cut on his wrist had given you a bit of a nice rush, but it’s nothing compared to this. Hal’s blood somehow tastes better when you’re the reason why it’s bubbling to the surface. It’s warm and spreads nicely over your tongue, and you can’t even begin to describe how it tastes. You just know that it tastes good enough that you want as much of it as you can get. You never want to stop drinking him down. 

Every sensation that runs through you is a contradiction: you’re cold but you’re warm, you ache all over but you also feel like every pain in your body is fading away, your brain feels like it’s drowned in a fuzzy fog but it also feels like you’re thinking clearly for the first time.

You don’t want to move away from him. He puts a hand to your shoulder like he doesn’t want you moving either so you press your body closer to his and wrap an arm around him to keep him near you. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. You can feel his pulse and his breathing. It’s all extremely intoxicating. 

Past experience gives you a fairly reliable idea of how Hal is handling himself at the moment, and that only encourages you to keep going. The throbbing sensation between your legs serves as an encouragement too, and you can suddenly understand why some guys were so desperate to totally plow you after they got a taste of your blood. 

You guide the hand that isn’t holding him down the length of his arm. You rest your fingers around his wrist, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat there. You never want to stop doing this. How is it that there are vampires out there who are even _capable_ of stopping? It’s more addicting than any drug or booze you’ve ever tasted, and it’s definitely ten times better than being bitten. You drag your tongue over the wound you’ve made and groan. He tastes so good.

You’re not the only one groaning. Hal’s making these beautiful little gasps, his fingers digging into your shoulder like you’re actually fucking him. He sounds better than he ever has in the rare dreams where you acknowledge that despite his many faults he’s pretty fucking attractive. You want to make him make more of those pretty noises. You want to get a lot closer to him. Your dick is starting to _ache_ with how much you want him. 

Maybe being a vampire isn’t quite as bad as you thought. 

He whines, a noise that’s cute and sexy all at once, but then he pushes you. You can’t recall why he would do that or if it’s important or not, and it makes you slow down a little.

‘Dirk,’ he moans. ‘Enough …’

He hits you and you remember, almost reluctantly. You don’t want to stop. You can’t risk hurting him. Even once you make that decision, it takes a while for you to tell your instincts to fuck off long enough for you to pull back. You think you’re panting a little. You can’t quite let go of him. 

‘Are ... Are you okay?’ you ask.

He’s staring at you, eyes kind of unfocused, and you have to make a conscious effort to resist the urge to pin him down and bite him again. It’d be so easy to do with him like this. You could bite him all over and drain every last drop from his veins before he would even realize what was happening. You want to devour him, but you won’t. You can’t. 

You take a few deep breaths, trying to reel yourself in before you turn this situation into a complete and utter horrorshow. You can still taste his blood on your lips, which is really not helping with anything, but you have to ignore it. You _have_ to if you don’t want to kill him. It doesn’t matter how good any of that felt or how badly you want to keep doing it. If you bite him again, he will die. End of story. 

He’s not answering you, and that has your brain clearing up somewhat to make room for your anxiety. What do you even do for someone who’s lost too much blood? _Has_ he even lost too much blood, or is this just something that goes hand in hand with the high? You remember feeling fucked up and lightheaded from this shit, but the fact that you can’t pinpoint the exact reason isn’t going to do fuck all for you here. 

His hand is gripping your shirt fairly tightly. You take that as a good sign, that he’s not weakened too much, but then he starts touching you with his other hand and that just makes some of the work you’ve done calming yourself down come undone. It’s so tempting to grab him and go back to where you just were, and it looks like he wouldn’t mind it too much if you did. Just a few more mouthfuls couldn’t hurt, right? 

You squeeze your eyes shut and place your hands on his shoulders. When you open your eyes again, you push him back lightly. Letting him touch you like that isn’t a good idea at the moment. He lets go, and a big part of you is disappointed.

‘Hal? Talk to me here. Are you okay? I didn’t fuck up beyond belief and give you brain damage, did I?’

You drop your own hands from his shoulders and watch him carefully. He’s not looking unwell, per se. In fact, his flushed cheeks and, yup, really obvious hard on suggest that your venom worked exactly as it should.

God, you fucking loathe your brain. You knew about this side effect, you’ve been a pretty big fan of this side effect, it _does not mean_ he actually wants you.

‘I feel fine,’ he says, after way too long. 

He looks you in the eye, just long enough for you to be struck by the intensity of his expression, and then his gaze drops, wandering over your body like a physical touch. You’re not exactly a stranger to attention, Hal was even checking you out just last night, but not like this. 

You want him to touch you so fucking badly but you _will not_ make the first move.

He touches you on your hip and pulls you in closer. You reach for him automatically, arms wrapping around him. You lean in and drag your lips up the length of his neck and to his jaw. He groans and you feel it under your lips. You can feel his pulse too, and it makes you want to bite him again. 

Before you can, he’s turning his head to meet your lips with his and you’re kissing with the kind of desperation that doesn’t care about style. He gets his hands under your shirt, stroking at your stomach and sides. You drag your hand up his back before resting it between his shoulder blades, keeping him close. The warmth of his skin through the thin cotton is so nice.

He’s getting more and more worked up, kissing you in a way that feels like sex, there’s nothing clean or romantic about it, until finally he grabs you and practically throws you onto your back. 

You make an embarrassing noise, but before you can beat yourself up about it Hal’s on top of you and kissing you again. _God_ , is this how horny you got from being fed on? Feeding on him has got you needy as hell, but Hal’s desperation is like something out of a porno. You definitely aren’t complaining.

He pushes your shirt up as you kiss and you tangle your fingers in his hair to keep him right there with you. With your free hand you feel him up, tracing along his ribs and up his back before you drag your hand down to his hips. You want to get his pants off of him so fucking badly, and so you get to work on undoing them without the help of your other hand or as much focus as you probably need for the task. 

You break the kiss so you can nip and suck at his neck. He grinds into your hand and moans, greatly impeding your efforts to get him out of his pants and turning you on almost enough to make it worth the extra effort.

‘Dirk,’ he gasps. ‘If you don't get naked right this fucking second I'm going to come in my pants and I'd really rather do it in you.’

You shove his pants down, finally, and start to struggle with your shirt against the dickhead who won’t give you so much as an inch despite his professed interest in your nudity. 

‘Hal,’ you reply, and fuck, you’re just as breathless as him. ‘I can’t exactly get myself naked that well when you’re right on top of me.’

You do manage to get your shirt off, maybe because you’re pretty fucking motivated, and push him away enough to get out of your pants. He resists for a second, but then stops being a complete idiot and strips the rest of his own clothes off. 

He rolls back on top of you and moans immediately, gratefully. You sigh as much from the relief of having him block the slight prickle from the small amount of sunlight filtering through your shitty curtains as the sensation of his body against yours. Once he moves in a slow grind against you, you don’t think you could move away from him even if the curtains were fully open.

You grind back, watching him as he stares at you. You feel yourself come over with goosebumps and as much as you could watch him like this all day, you need to kiss him again. You cup his cheek and drag him down so his body is flush with yours and suck his bottom lip into your mouth. 

It’s not just desperate and hot, though it definitely is, there’s an intimacy here that’s as addicting as it is terrifying. You’re touching him like you need to learn all his reactions, like his body is essential to memorise. You kiss him hard before abandoning his lips for his neck again. You’ll do anything to keep him making these noises.

‘You know, this isn’t exactly how you get to come in me,’ you murmur against his neck. 

He strokes down your body until he reaches your dick and touches you agonisingly gently. He doesn’t let his fingers linger, trailing them so fucking teasingly to your asshole and back. You tip your head back and groan. It’s not enough. You never want him to stop.

‘What do you want?’ he asks, leaning down to flick his tongue against your nipple.

‘Whatever you want,’ you say. ‘Fuck me. Shove your dick down my throat. Get me to fuck you. I don’t give a shit. I’m just worried you might not last long at this rate.’

You reach down to touch him back, stroking his dick just as slowly as he’s still teasing you. He moans appreciatively into your chest and strokes you with a bit more pressure. You rub your fingers over the slit of his cock as a kind of reward.

‘We haven't exactly talked about whether your man-cave's off limits,’ he says.

You’re actually surprised that Hal has the restraint to even ask about this kind of shit when he probably has the hardest dick you’ve touched in a long time. You’re half expecting him to come just from the light touches you’re giving him alone. You’re kind of pleased with him for worrying about it; there’s plenty of people out there who don’t give a damn about communication and just do whatever the hell they want. 

‘Hal, I literally could not give less of a shit about where you stick your dick as long as it’s not somewhere fuckin’ obscure and impractical.’ You give his dick a light squeeze and feel him push just barely into your hands. _Fuck_ , that’s hot. ‘Nothing is off limits.’

‘Eyeballs it is,’ he says, his breathlessness ruining his trademark sarcasm.

‘Something gives me the impression that that fits into the obscure and impractical category, but I won’t hold you back. Maybe I’ll discover I have a kink for getting fucked in the eyes.’

Your hand stills on his dick as he presses two fingers into you. Both of you groan together and you arch your back just enough to lift the middle of it off of the bed, trying to force his fingers deeper.

He moves up your body again to kiss you as he drags his fingers in and out of you and you’re glad for some way to muffle your moans. His tongue feels fucking amazing against yours, and you only pull away to nip at his bottom lip. If the sounds he makes whenever you tug on him with your teeth are any kind of reliable, he likes getting bitten just as much as you like biting. 

You really, really want him to fuck you, as hard as he can. His fingers feel good, but it’s not enough. You buck your hips needily to try and get his fingers deeper, faster. You’re about to start begging him to just do it already—and begging is something you pride yourself on being able to hold off on—when he pulls his fingers out. 

You grip his shoulders and bite your lip as he lines himself up. Your hips move with him automatically, you want every inch of him inside you right the fuck now.

‘Fuck,’ he gasps, ‘you feel fucking amazing.

‘Hal, please,’ you beg. You _need_ him. 

He moves too slow for your desperation, but finally he starts fucking you. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, you fucking love this. You cling to him, nails digging into his back and kiss him like your life depends on it.

He pulls back from your kiss, and you’d protest if he wasn’t starting to fuck you properly, elbows locked and a small frown of concentration on his face as he thrusts into you harder and faster. You buck your hips to meet each thrust he gives you, driving him as deep as you can and stroke possessively down his chest. 

‘Fuck, Hal. You feel so fuckin’ good.’

‘Dirk,’ he groans back. ‘So good, fuck.’

Touching him is absolutely addictive, but your dick is aching to be touched so you drop a hand from his hip and start stroking yourself. His thrusts stutter in their rhythm as he stares at you covetously, but he keeps fucking you. 

You drag your thumb along your dick and have to close your eyes for a second against the intense pleasure. His pelvis nudges the base of your dick perfectly every time he fucks into you and you feel so good, so full.

‘I think ... _Fuck_ , I think I’m close,’ you tell him.

‘Jesus, Dirk,’ he pants. ‘Yes, _fuck_ , yes.’

He picks your legs up and hooks them over his arms, holding your hips up and fucking you harder. Dear _God_ , the angle he’s hitting you at is absolutely perfect, so deep you feel like you should be able to see it. You’re caught between desperate to come and never wanting this to stop. You stop trying to match his rhythm and just let him take over.

You stroke up his chest and thumb over his nipple, prompting Hal to lean into your hand and say, ‘There, more, please.’ Hearing him say please does something you can’t quite describe to your insides. You do as he asks immediately, rubbing your fingers circles and pinching him. You want your mouth, your _teeth_ on him, but there’s no way you can reach like this.

The change in position almost seemed to buy you a few extra seconds, but you were already so close and you can’t hold yourself back any longer. 

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ you moan, ‘fucking _fuck_ , Hal, oh my God—’

You tense up as you come, your hands stilling on his nipple and your cock as you arch your back. He moans louder than he has yet and his fingers dig into your hips as he comes with you. He doesn’t stop all at once, he rides it out with slowing thrusts until you properly finish and find yourself relaxing in a way that you really only achieve like this. 

He pulls out gently and lies on top of you. Your limbs feel lazy and slow, but you still manage to hook an arm around his waist and rest the other one on his back. One of your favorite parts of sex is the aftermath. You just love the affection.

‘Fuck, Dirk,’ he sighs.

He kisses your neck and you lean into it. You rub gentle circles into his back.

‘I think you’ve officially lost the right to call me a stupid fang-banger.’

He shifts closer, adjusts his legs slightly and keeps kissing absently at your neck. He gets his arms comfortable too and starts stroking your hair, too. It’s _blissful_. Your arms are prickling almost as if you’ve got pins and needles in them, burning in the muted sunlight, but you’re not moving from this. It’s too good.

‘Well fuck,’ he says. ‘Now my list of insults is all unbalanced.’ His voice is nice like this. Deep and rough like he moaned too harshly and slow like he’s too well-fucked to keep it as biting as usual.

‘What a shame,’ you say. ‘I think you’ll manage without the insult. You did back before I started fucking around with vampires.’

‘I really thought I had more self control than that. Is it going to be like that every time?’ he asks.

‘I mean, from what I know, it’s different for everyone. I know that the effect has gotten weaker on me over time, but I can’t say the same for others.’

You have to think to yourself for several moments. The way Hal had phrased his question made it sound like he expected you to feed on him again in the future. You don’t like doing it. You don’t like losing control like that. 

It’s not because it’s Hal or because you feel like it would be better with someone else—it was fucking _amazing_ with him. You just know you’ve been lucky on both of the occasions you’ve fed on him. Next time, you might not be so lucky. Hell, you barely managed to stop this time. It took him hitting you to jerk you out of it. What if you actually kill him next time?

The best way to prevent that would be to not let there be a next time. You swallow as you tighten your hold on him just a little. You really don’t ever want to hurt him. He may be an insufferable dickhead during most of the time that you’re around him, but you would never want to cause him any harm. 

Even now, breathing him in and feeling his closeness, you feel the deep urge to bite him again. You don’t know if your hunger is _gone_ , but it’s satisfied enough to ignore the feeling for now. You don’t know if you’ll be able to ignore it in the future. It’s like the most persistent of impulsive thoughts, and you’re struggling not to obsess.

You sigh. You’re fucking tired. You really want to fall asleep with his fingers running through your hair, and you just might if you can get your overactive brain to shut up for a few seconds. Your hand begins to slow on his back, your movements becoming lazier.

You’re startled from your dozing by Hal’s watch screaming out an alarm. The sleepy relaxation you’d fallen into is well and truly fucked. Hal sits up clumsily and fiddles with the his watch to make it stop.

He looks down at you suspiciously when he’s finished, before looking back at your window and then back at you. The fresh skin he’s exposed by removing his apparently vampire friendly body from yours doesn’t like the feeling of him being gone anymore than your clingy, touch-starved brain does.

‘Back in my room,’ he says. ‘If it's a thing that injury makes you hungrier and you're just lingering in the sun then we're fucked because we're keeping this quiet at least until you can control your shit and I only have the regular amount of v-juice running through these primo veins.’

Well, he figured that one out. You suppose it had to come to an end at some point. On balance, you think the burns were worth the cuddles.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk's trying to come to terms with his new reality, but Hal _won't. stop. pushing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I already warned for this, but _seriously_ , mental health warning. Dirk's ... not well.

You’re absolutely not going to be a fan of this vampire thing if Hal keeps using it as an excuse to nanny you. He gets up and starts getting dressed, but you take the opportunity to sigh and roll your eyes to yourself before sitting up. It’s the little things that make dealing with Hal manageable, and the way he lifts his shoulders up defensively every single time you sigh is one of your favourite petty joys. You think it’s completely instinctual by now.

‘You know, we wouldn’t have to worry about this bullshit at all if I just let the sun do its job. You could keep your precious v-juice and I would be content with whatever the fuck exists after death, if there’s even anything at all.’

‘You know, I hate you but I don't hate you. I …’ Hal pauses and you stop midway through pulling your underwear and pants back on. Is he trying to be sincere? Jesus, did his brain leak out when he came? ‘Your life isn't over, okay? When I get sick of you I'll stake you my damn self, until then I don't want you to die.’

‘You’re a damn idiot, then,’ you tell him.

You shake your head and go back to getting dressed. He got sick of you about five and a half minutes after you met and he’s spent every available second since then reminding you of that. It’s pretty fucking surprising to hear him say that he doesn’t completely hate you in the face of that.

It’s not like you’re one of those assholes who thinks vampirism is a sin or an abomination. It’s not necessarily pleasant in nature, but neither are most things. If your roles were reversed, you would never suggest that Hal should kill himself. Really, the problem is that you’ve never been completely alright mentally and emotionally, and being turned has dug up some thoughts and feelings you’ve been dealing with for years. Well, ignoring. It’s a kind of dealing. You’re still here, anyway.

You pull your shirt on and walk towards the door, but Hal stops you with a hand to your chest. You frown, wondering if you’re just casually touching each other now.

‘Give me thirty seconds to close the blinds, then go directly to my room,’ he says.

‘Alright, fine.’

You fold your arms over your chest and sit back down on your bed as you wait for him to close all the blinds and curtains. You should probably change your sheets.

Fuck. You had sex with Hal. _Hal_.

You take a deep breath and drag your hands over your face. Maybe you can both just forget that it ever happened. You don’t want to talk about it with him at all, but how are you supposed to stop yourself from thinking about it every time you look at him? This is probably one of the bigger fuck ups in your life. 

You can’t let this happen again. Sure, it might have felt great, and maybe Hal is nowhere near repulsive to you, but with how antagonistic you are towards each other, it’s _mortifying_. You have better control than this. 

You know what, you’re not thinking about this right now. It’s been long enough, so you grab your phone and head to Hal’s room. He’s not there yet, so you sit as close to the edge as you can on his bed and stare at your apps, knowing that none of them are distracting enough to make this a comfortable way to spend a day.

A more sensible guy than you might address the couple of notifications you have from your small friend group. Nothing urgent, you haven’t exactly been offline _long_ , but as much as you know that it’d be easier to not make them worry in the first place and just send _something_ , just looking at the red box is making you tired. It’s not like you don’t disappear from the Internet sometimes anyway. 

Hal comes back into the room holding a plate of pizza and sits at his desk. You don’t look at him directly and you get the sense he’s doing the same as he turns his lamp on and wakes his computer up.

You focus back on your phone. There has to be something on it that you can occupy yourself with. Maybe you should do some research, find out what you’re in for with more detail than horror movies and random fact-dropping hookups have given you in the past. You don’t really want to think about it though. 

Hal spins around on his chair to face you suddenly, but you keep your eyes carefully on your phone, pretending like the porkchop shaped mouth of your background art is the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen.

‘You got any tips for what I should be eating, drinking, whatever?’

You can’t ignore a direct question. You look up at him and raise your eyebrows. You actually don’t know. You think back to your usual habits, but you don’t think that treating yourself to a cheeseburger and putting extra sugar in your coke is actually what you’re supposed to do.

‘Probably something along the lines of what blood banks want you to eat and drink. Maybe. I don’t know, man. Just because I fucked a lot of vampires doesn’t mean I know every last thing about dealing with them.’

Or the first thing, apparently. Whatever, it’s not like it’s important. Your actual priorities were more focused around not forgetting condoms just because you were high (whoops, broke that streak of good sense with Hal) and not getting robbed.

Hal seems to be struggling with going more than a sentence talking to you without insulting you. You don’t think it’s worth looking back at the nothing you were doing on your phone when he’s clearly not finished with you.

‘What made you do it the first time?’ he asks.

You chew on your lower lip as you try to think of an answer you can give him. 

The first time you were bitten was months ago. You had just broken up with your ex and you were feeling ... self-destructive. You’d considered visiting the vampire clubs and bars before, but not seriously. Not until that night when you were heading home. At the time, Jake didn’t live far from where you and Hal live, so you usually walked to and from his place when you visited him. The vampire joints along the way just gave you the idea. 

It was easy getting in. It was easy hanging back and feeling the rhythm of the place, watching other people pick up. You had no idea how people knew who was and who wasn’t at the beginning, but the more you watched, you got it. You found a _really_ hot guy who seemed more than happy to take you back to his place. He bit you and fucked you and didn’t kick you out after. 

Getting up the next morning fucking sucked. You’d done everything you were warned against. It was a seedy bar, you didn’t ask his name, you told him you didn’t have anyone waiting for you at home. 

And you still woke up the next morning and you were still someone’s _ex_ -boyfriend and you still had to keep going, keep _living_. It felt like you were waist deep in water and it didn’t matter how strong you thought you were, you weren’t going anywhere fast.

‘Curiosity,’ you lie. You frown at your hands where you’re turning your phone around and around. You sigh. ‘I was hoping I wouldn’t live through it.’

‘Dirk, I …’

He looks shocked. You’re not sure what you were expecting, maybe some kind of jab? That’s how he usually responds to, well, everything, and it’s not like you’ve never made offhand comments about your general displeasure with existence. 

‘I didn't know,’ he says. ‘I thought …’

He leaves his chair and sits on the bed next to you. You manage not to lean away like you’re allergic to him or anything. You brought this on yourself with your stupid honesty. You thought you knew him better than this.

You don’t have to look at him though. You turn away, rubbing the back of your neck.

‘Look, it doesn’t matter. Obviously I didn’t get what I wanted out of it. Don’t get all sappy on me. I never managed to successfully get my ass drained, so it’s not like it matters.’

It’s not like it was your priority, not after that first night. You liked the high and the sex. But you also liked that you never felt the need to fight when you were being drained. Seemed like a pretty good way to go.

Hal inches closer until your arms are touching. You don’t jerk away, that seems kind of cold considering he clearly is invested in giving you some attempt at comfort. 

‘Look, broad picture stuff, okay? There's no such thing as a life that doesn't mean something. There's never a good enough reason to cut life short. And you're …’

Jesus Christ. He’s not seriously doing this.

‘You're too …’ He’s having a real struggle with getting the words out, probably because it goes against every aspect of his personality and he’s trying to convince a guy he actively hates not to kill himself. You wish he’d just give up. 

‘I like having you around. Not saying you should live for me. Obviously. Other people like you too. Shit, I follow your dumb blog. People who don't even know your real name who read your bullshit like you. You make people's lives better by being in them. And I don't know ... I haven't been here, not like this. I don't know if there is a right thing to say, but I can't not say something.’

You’re not sure if you’ve ever been in a situation this uncomfortable. This isn’t Hal. He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t have a single shit to give about you, the last day can be easily explained back to him not wanting to deal with the inconvenience that would come from you dying in the apartment.

‘How the hell did you find my blog?’ you ask, because that’s the only surprising thing he said. ‘Hal, don't give me that shit. Seriously. I've heard it before and it doesn't fucking work.’

You rub your eyes, exhausted. Does he think that there’s a right combo of words out there that he can say that’ll make you just quit being depressed? Gee, thanks, Hal, you’d never thought about the fact that your suicidal thoughts would hurt the people you care about before! You’re cured now!

‘It would be a lot more sensible for you to just not say something.’ you sigh. ‘You're wasting your breath with this, and I don't get why you're saying anything in the first place. You don't give a fuck about me, Hal. If you're worrying about being inconvenienced by my corpse or whatever else, stop. I'm clearly not kicking the bucket anytime soon.’

‘Fine, too much,’ he says. ‘Can you just promise to tell me if you're actually in danger? Like, okay, safety is relative, but if you're about to take a walk outside at noon can you just tell me? I'll ... sit on you until the urge passes or something.’

You sigh. It’s not worth the headache telling him that apart from the vampire stuff which has been taken firmly off the table, you’re very used to denying your self-destructive urges. You don’t need or want his help. But you want the conversation to be over.

‘Fine. Now can we just pretend that this never happened? Because I would really appreciate it if we just dropped this particular topic and never talked about it again.’

He looks at you in a way that has you worrying that you’re not even close to ending the conversation, but he nods and stands up.

‘I'm going to take a shower,’ he says. ‘You know, you're probably nocturnal now. Just saying.’

You shrug, as if he needs some kind of response from you and watch him as he moves around his room, getting fresh clothes. You’ve lived with him for ages now but you still never really know what he’s thinking.

When he leaves, you consider continuing to perch on the edge of his bed like an anxious falcon, but there’s really no point. You _are_ tired. You don’t need to sleep, necessarily, you aren’t holding out any kind of hope that vampirism has cured your insomnia, but just resting would be good.

You get under his covers and lie on your side. You swipe through your app drawer from start to finish and then over again, but you’re barely seeing the icons. Whether it’s because your body has had enough of all the bullshit you’ve endured today or because you really are nocturnal now, you drift off.

Knowing that you’re dreaming has literally never helped with how horrible your nightmares are. You’re back at the club, the one you were at last night, and you’re making meaningful eye contact with the guy who bit you. The time and place jumps forward in that uncomfortably disorienting way that dreams have, and he’s got you alone, pinned to a wall.

He kisses you. He’s too strong for you to move, but you’re fine with that. Then his mouth is on your neck and he’s biting you _way_ harder than you’ve ever been bitten before. The high isn’t strong enough to ignore the pain, and you’re actively feeling your blood being sucked out as opposed to the usually much more passive way it happens. It’s terrifying. It _hurts_. 

You try kicking him off you, but you’re clumsy and weak compared to him and he ignores you. You try to scratch at his eyes, but he just pins you again. In reality, you gave it everything you had. In the dream, it’s like trying to move through sand. You can’t fight him.

Also unlike in reality, you don’t pass out. Your limbs get heavy and still, and he isn’t stopping. You think you’re going to die. You don’t know how much longer you can take this.

He finally pulls back, but the dream has shifted. It’s not the same man from last night. Instead, you’re staring at the blurry image of yourself with blood all over your mouth and your eyes burning with something purely animalistic. You watch yourself climb off of you and leave the room without a second glance before you slide off the bed (when did you get in the bed?), pressing your hand over the bite wound. 

Your eyes fall on the mirror across your room. Your reflection doesn’t have your face. It’s Hal, covered in blood and pale and on the verge of bleeding out. 

You jerk out of the dream and sit bolt upright in Hal’s bed, your hands gripping the sheets so tightly that your knuckles are turning white. You’re gasping and panting, but you’re awake. 

You’re never fucking sleeping again.

‘You okay, dude?’ 

Hal’s alive. You didn’t kill him. You were just dreaming. (But you will. You will kill him if you feed on him again.)

You rub at your eyes to get the sleep out of them. You avoid looking at Hal, staring at the bed instead. You know that if you look at Hal, you’ll see the version of him that was in your dream. You nod slowly. You’re okay. You’re totally okay. Your throat might be tight and every muscle in your body might be tense, but there’s no way you’re not okay. 

‘‘M fine,’ you say. ‘It was just a stupid dream. No big deal.’

‘Right, well it's dark again. You are free to wander the house normally. You should do that, instead of freaking out in my bed. Let me know when you want ... dinner.’

You don’t know how it’s possible, but you think you manage to become even more tense at the mention of feeding. There’s still that urge deep within you, but the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach is drowning that out. All you can think about is that fucking nightmare, and it’s doing a good job at making you never want to bite anyone again, especially him. You didn’t enjoy doing it in the first place (the thought of it, anyway), but now you think you’re on the path to hating it. 

You shake your head as you slip off of his bed, ignoring the way your hands are trembling ever so slightly. The memory of what happened was bad enough. Not the worst memory you have by far, of course, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant. Your mind throwing its own twists to it both pisses you off and scares you. 

‘I’m not doing it again,’ you say firmly. You leave the room before he can fight you on this. Even Hal’s legendary stubbornness will not move you this time.

You don’t manage to close your door behind you, because Hal’s in the way, having followed you into your room. You frown at him. You were hoping that he would just ignore you or consider your statement bullshit, but it’s stupid to hope that Hal won’t be as much of a stubborn, argumentative jackass as you are. This is why the two of you bicker so much. That, and you think your personalities just clash anyway. 

‘You're not going to do it again?’ he demands. ‘You're starving yourself now? Or is it just the bitey-sexy bit that's so abhorrent to you?’

You sit on your bed and try not to think about what happened the last time both of you were in here. You end up thinking about it despite your efforts. You roll your eyes at him. Like any sane person would object to getting fucked like that.

‘Just because I’m on the other side of the vampire bullshit now doesn’t mean I suddenly want a nun’s sex life. I don’t want to do it because I don’t want to do it. What the fuck are you doing in my room anyway? Get out.’

He steps backwards, but he doesn’t leave. Damn. He doesn’t seem to give a shit about doing whatever the hell he wants even when you express that you’re against it, but he’s barely ever been inside of your room. Except for earlier. ...You really need to forget about that. 

‘That's not how this works,’ he says. ‘You can't just decide, “hey, breathing's always been an inconvenience, who likes the feeling of air in lungs, not me!” and just quit doing the thing you need to do to survive. Don't be a dickhead.’

Is there a single conversational path here that doesn’t involve bitching at each other for literal hours? You can’t think of one. You never can. You fucking hate your roommate.

‘Is there some fuckin’ contract somewhere that states that my body is your property? Because I sure as hell don’t remember signing anything that says you can tell me whether or not I do something regardless of its impact on my health.’ You sigh and get a tiny amount of satisfaction as Hal’s shoulders do the thing. Petty victories are still victories. ‘I’ve already fed on you twice. Somehow, I have the impression that continuing to use you as a chew toy will land you in the hospital. If it really starts to become an issue, I’ll go out and do it with someone else.’

‘I don't know what gave you the impression that I would offer you anything I couldn't give,’ he says. ‘I've looked it up, it'll be fine. Worst case scenario, we call someone here so you don't jump the first passer by.’

You grit your teeth and try to ignore the way your body feels hot all over. He pisses you off so fucking easily.

‘Let's not play pretend here, Dirk,’ he continues before you can compose yourself. ‘Of the two of us, I was always going to be the one in control and you were always going to be the one sitting on your hands. You’re fucking welcome. Let me know if you want me to sort out the rest of your damn life while I'm at it, I'm sure it'll barely take up 5% of my thought-space.’

‘I don’t seem to recall asking you to do fuck all for me. You could have kept playing hermit like you always do and stayed in your bedroom when I got home last night, but you decided for whatever inane reason that you wanted to put your own personal brand of douchebaggery aside. I didn’t fucking ask you to do that. I wouldn’t ask you to do that. I would have gladly died on the goddamn spot.’ You’re gripping your sheets tight enough that it hurts, but it’s keeping you from fucking _killing_ him. It’s like he’s forgotten that’s a thing that you can do, a thing that you _want_ to do. ‘Get the fuck out of my room. Now.’

You want to be rational about this, but Hal has a way of pushing you until you can’t even focus on rationality. You’ve never known anyone who has this kind of effect on you. With very few exceptions, you bite your tongue and you don’t punch him, even when he’s really asking for it.

Tonight is different, though. He’s pushing you to snap. The part of you that’s still human can go fuck himself for all you care. 

‘Oh please,’ he says. ‘You'd need me to hold your hand and say at least five more times that you're allowed before you’d ever act on this.’

You don’t know when you move. One second, you’re on your bed. The next, you’ve got him pinned against the wall. You have one hand on his chest and the other around his throat. You’re not being nice about it either; you’re gripping him as tightly as you were gripping your bedsheets, and considering that those are fucked now, it can’t feel good. 

You’re fucking sick of him. You’re sick of him being the insufferable bastard that he is. You’re sick of the taunts and the sarcasm and all the other bullshit he crams into his intolerable personality. You loathe him to the very core but you’re stupid enough to care about him at the same time and you _hate_ it. You hate him. You hate him because you had sex with him. You hate him because he’s been helping you. You hate him because he didn’t let you die. 

You don’t give yourself time to calm down and think about this. You lurch forward and bite into his neck _hard_.


	5. Chapter 5

Biting him doesn’t stop you from hating him. You don’t lighten up your grip on him and you continue to bite him as hard as you can, but you know deep down that he won’t register the pain because of the high. It makes you even angrier than you already were that this isn’t a real punishment for him.

It’s more than that. He’s _enjoying_ this. His hands are holding your hips and pulling you closer and he’s making a pitifully high moan. He shifts even closer and you feel his hard on against your leg. You want to let yourself enjoy this too. You want to strip him and yourself down again and make it feel as good as it did only hours ago, but you also want to tear him apart. You want to drain him until there’s nothing left. 

You press yourself closer to him, a moan bubbling out from between your lips and becoming muffled against his neck. You’re caught between rage and arousal and it feels fucking great.

You can’t bite him any harder than you are, and you’re drinking faster than last time too. It’s animalistic and desperate, sucking from him like it isn’t enough just to let his blood fall into your mouth. The part of you that’s still capable of thinking logically and doesn’t want to hurt Hal feels so far away right now. You’re barely even able to compose thoughts that aren’t total nonsense. 

‘Dirk, stop.’

He has such a nice voice. He reaches up and knocks his hand against your shoulder. If that means anything, you can’t remember what it is. Fuck, he’s hot. You’re not angry with him anymore, he tastes and feels too good.

Your grip on him tightens. It feels good to be doing this, right? So nothing is wrong. You know that Hal likes it too, so why not keep doing it?

‘Stop,’ he whines.

That noise does amazing things to your insides. You want to fuck him so badly it might even be worth stopping biting. 

Sudden pain _right_ on your dick snaps you out of the haze of drinking enough for you to think again. It doesn’t hurt as much as it might in another situation, but it’s shocking enough that you can process that Hal _punched you, right in the dick._ Fuck, he asked you to stop. You pull your fangs out and step back, covering your crotch reflexly. 

He sways slightly and braces his hands against the wall. You’re still out of it, but you can tell that Hal looks very ... not good. 

‘Fuck,’ you say.

You can’t quite remember how you got here. He pissed you off, somehow. You feel your fangs retract back into your gums, which is a fucking weird sensation. You don’t think you were even that hungry.

Hal is looking really pale, but you’re still trying to sort your own self out. Things are getting less fuzzy for you. You remember him being, well, himself. You remember telling him to leave your room, but he just kept fucking around. He wouldn’t stop taunting you and it pissed you off beyond belief. He didn’t even do that much though. Why the hell did you get that mad over something so stupid?

‘Better fuckin' catch me,’ he slurs.

It’s not much warning, and you don’t quite understand him at first, but he faints almost immediately after and you reflexly reach out and somehow get your arms under him. You can smell the blood on him, but you do your best to shove that to the back of your mind. That’s not important right now. What’s important is keeping Hal from busting his ass on the floor. 

You’re lucky that he’s not too heavy for you to support. You drag him over to your bed, muttering curses the whole way, and drop him rather unceremoniously on top of it. 

‘You are such a fuckin’ dumbass,’ you tell him.

‘Fuuuuck,’ he groans.

You don’t know what to do. You’ve passed out before. You’ve had guys take just a little too much of your blood and you’ve totally fucking blacked out as a result. The problem, however, is that you don’t remember jack shit about what they did for you. You know some of them stuck around to make sure that you didn’t die, but you have no clue as to what they did, if anything.

You take a deep breath and sit on the edge of the bed. You press your hand to his wrist as if it will help anything and chew on your lip like the anxious piece of shit you are. He’s going to be okay. He _has_ to be okay. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you murmur, surprising yourself with how quiet your voice is.

At least his pulse feels fine. You’re not medically trained, but you can tell the difference between a decent pulse and a dying one. It makes some of the tightness that’s found its way to your chest fade away, but you know you aren’t going to be able to get rid of the panicky feeling that’s latched onto you because of this anytime soon. 

‘Was askin' for it,’ he slurs. 

He sounds like shit. He looks like shit too, but at least he’s alive and he’s capable of some form of speech. He’s in no condition for you two to have an argument, so you don’t say anything else on the matter. You don’t want to talk about it anyway. 

It’s difficult to ignore his eyes on you. He won’t stop staring at you and it’s kind of weird as hell, so you turn in the opposite direction and glare at the floor. You can’t believe you lost control of yourself that easily.

‘Try not to pass out. Again.’

‘Not gonna,’ he says, and you can’t help but look at him when he speaks. ‘Magic teeth.’

Jesus _Christ_ he looks high as hell. He probably _is_ , but you don’t think you’ve ever been affected this badly by venom. Then again, you can’t really be sure about that considering you would be too high to really comprehend fuck all. 

‘What the fuck are you trying to communicate here?’ you ask. He really isn’t going to stop staring at you, is he. You have to admit that that goofy, unselfconscious smile on his face is ... pretty fucking cute. Goddamn it. ‘You know what, forget what I said. Maybe you should try to sleep this off. You look like you’ve eaten your weight in edibles.’

He closes his eyes immediately, which might be the first time he’s ever done as you’ve said. You breathe in relief that you don’t have to sit under his attention any longer, because that was getting embarrassing even if you don’t think he’s in any condition to notice your embarrassment. For some reason he reaches out and takes your hand and you’re very glad his eyes are closed. You had him balls deep in you yesterday and him holding your hand now is enough to make you blush? What the fuck, Dirk? He strokes your hand and you stare helplessly at his fingers. 

His compliance can't last though, and too soon, he remembers that he’s a stubborn asshole.

‘You can't tell me what to do,’ he says. 

‘Alright, whatever. Suit yourself. I didn’t think you enjoyed being all limp and spaced out. I bet you’ll fall asleep anyway.’

‘I’m fine,’ he insists.

He opens his eyes wide like a little kid and you shake your head despairingly. Fortunately, you think you can tell by his refusal to sleep that he’s going to be fine. You don’t think Hal would keep his stubborn nature up if something was seriously wrong.

He tugs your hand closer to him and you let him. He’s not doing any harm, if anything his gentle exploration feels nice. You think you can allow yourself some indulgences every now and again. It’s not like you’re getting an excess of affection these days.

You watch him idly as he compares your hand to his own and examines it. It feels weird to be touching him so much, but it’s simply due to how foreign it is. You two practically do whatever it takes to not touch each other on a daily basis. You wonder why your hand is suddenly so interesting to him, but it’s probably just the high’s doing. 

His fingers stroking on your wrist is nice, and it gives you the urge to lay down next to him and just enjoy this for a while. You can’t, though. You’re not keen on taking your eyes off of him until you know for certain that he’s okay. 

‘What are you doing?’ you ask, unable to keep the hint of amusement out of your voice.

He doesn’t answer, too occupied with whatever he’s doing. It feels oddly tender to be doing this. It’s so strange to be letting Hal of all people play around with your hand, and it’s even stranger that the two of you aren’t arguing about one thing or another. It’s nice, though. It’s a lot nicer than bickering constantly, and you kind of wish that your relationship with him was more tender and gentle like this. You’re a bit of a sap sometimes, you think. 

He’s counting your freckles now. Well, you think. He doesn’t quite look like he’s got the brainpower for counting, but he’s touching his finger to each of them. If he _is_ counting them, he’s going to be doing that for a long time. You wonder if they’ll start to fade now that you can’t go out in the sunlight. 

It’s tempting to thread your fingers with his and squeeze his hand, but you can’t do that. He might be out of it right now, but you’re sure that he would fuck with you for it later on. Plus, you’re already being soft by allowing this. 

‘Reading your palm,’ he says, and it takes you a second to realise he’s answering your question, just like … actual minutes after you asked it. ‘Want to know your future?’

‘I didn’t realize you were into that shit,’ you say. You shrug. ‘Sure.’

‘Peta was in love with a witch,’ he says. His sibling comes around sometimes and you can buy they’re into it a lot more than Hal. The way Hal gets frustrated with them for being vaguely polite to you makes you always happen to come out of your room when they’re around. ‘If it's real, they can't do it for shit, my lines can't have changed every time they tried.’

You aren’t informed on palm reading in any way whatsoever. You aren’t sure that Hal’s opinion is to be trusted when he’s currently tripping balls either, but you don’t really give this kind of stuff much thought anyway. 

You watch what he does with your hand. You don’t think there’s much truth to this practice, but it’s interesting to watch Hal do it. You’re also curious about what he’ll say. Plus, you might as well get a free palm reading off of your high roommate. You don’t have anything better to do at the moment. 

‘Heart line,’ he says. ‘Aaand it's high, which means you're passionate. And it's uppy, that means something too. Some people go like this.’ He draws a path along your palm with his fingertip. ‘See?’

Not only do you not see, you sincerely doubt he does. He shows you his hand. You’ve had more communicative conversations in clubs with bass thumping in your ears and relying on crude sign language. 

‘I don’t really see how this is supposed to be you telling me my future,’ you say. ‘I’m no expert on this shit though. How exactly do a few lines hold any meaning?’

He frowns and rubs at his eyes. His hand goes limp around yours and for a moment you think he’s fallen asleep, but he opens his eyes again and stares determinedly at your hand again. Damn, that’s cute. 

‘No, okay, it's like ... less future and more you, like, who you are and who you could be. Wait, shit, I need both your hands. Which one do you write with? How do I not know that? Do you know which my hand is? Which hand I use? Dirk, I'm tired.’

If his tiredness was cute before, it’s downright adorable when he starts rambling. You shouldn’t be thinking that. You hate each other. You’re being really stupid about this, at least he has the excuse of being high.

You use your unoccupied hand to brush his hair out of his face. 

‘You know, I think you would be better off demonstrating this palm reading shit when you’re not on the verge of passing out. You should probably go ahead and let yourself fall asleep. You aren’t doing yourself any favors by staying awake.’

His eyes close as you stroke his hair, and that’s enough to keep you doing it. You don’t discount the fact that you’ve fed on him recently either, touching him feels _right_.

‘This is all going to be okay,’ he mumbles. ‘I'm very good at planning. And I'm very good at holding blood in my body. I do it all the time. I'm gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that, stupid magic hands. That's probably on your palms too, has the ability to make Hal melt, will not use this responsibly. I'll write it on if it isn't already, gotta warn for this shit.’

You smirk a little. So touching his hair is making him sleepy? You suppose that that’s as good of an excuse as any to keep running your fingers through his hair. You don’t say anything in response to him, partly because you think talking to him will just keep him awake and partly because you don’t really know how to reply to nonsense. 

His rambles are making you feel strangely warm and affectionate. You need to put a lid on all of that. You can’t let yourself feel all mushy towards your douche of a roommate, that would be insane. You wonder if he’s going to remember any of this when he wakes up. 

You continue stroking through his hair after he falls asleep. You really need to take a shower, but you’re not comfortable with leaving him alone like this. What if he tries to get up and manages to give himself a concussion? You don’t want him getting himself killed.

Running your fingers through Hal’s hair while you make sure that he doesn’t die in his sleep is entertaining and all, but you can only do it for so long before your hand gets tired. You choose to finally start letting everyone who blew up your phone know that you’re still alive. You don’t tell anyone what happened though. That can wait until later. 

Fuck, how are you going to tell them without freaking them out? Roxy and Jane worry over you enough already, and you know that you’ve made Dave panic over nothing on more than one occasion. Jake is ... Jake. You can guess his reaction pretty well. 

You know that none of your friends are going to shun you because of this, but you’re definitely going to put this off for a while. You don’t want to freak them out.

You eventually settle on fucking around on your laptop while Hal sleeps. You should probably research vampirism instead of modding Skyrim to an unplayable glitchy piece of shit for the thousandth time, but you _are_ a vampire now. You’re a primary source. Fuck the unreliable Internet.

You don’t notice that Hal is awake until he scoots away from you. You sit up a little, watching him carefully. He runs his hands through his hair. It’s kind of crazy from sleeping on it.

‘Dude, are you alright?’ you ask.

‘Yep. Sorry, should have gone back to my bed. What time is it? We should swap curtains if we have time. I need …’

You frown when his voice trails off. You don’t think that you fully believe him. He’s not looking at you at all, which is a massive contrast to how he was staring at you earlier. 

At least he doesn’t appear to be as high as he was then, but you wouldn’t expect him to be after a few hours of sleep. You’re thankful either way. Now you don’t have to worry about keeping him from accidentally getting himself killed. 

‘I don’t think you were capable of walking, so don’t apologize. It’s not like I was using it anyway.’ You glance at your laptop. ‘It’s 3:21 AM.’

He glances at you so briefly before looking away again. Is he regretting being close to you this much? This is exactly why you shouldn’t be letting yourself get attached, it’s ridiculous that him being vaguely cold with you kinda hurts your feelings when usually he’s trampling over them on purpose.

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ you ask.

You took a lot of blood from him earlier. What if he’s still suffering from side effects from that? It’s not like what he lost was immediately replaced after you bit him, and you don’t know if enough time has passed for his body to fully replenish his blood supply.

He sits up straighter, proper morning-Hal face on. He hugs his knees to his chest like he’s cold.

‘Yeah, just woke up weird,’ he says. ‘Okay, thinking now. I need to shower and eat and come up with a plan that has more than two steps. Coffee. Why does thinking have to be hard when you're waking up?’

You can tell that something is up, you just don’t know what. If Hal isn’t going to tell you, you won’t press him any further on the topic. He gave you that same mercy when you had your nightmare, so you think you owe him one. If it was something serious, it would probably be more obvious than this. 

It’s normal to be tired and not be able to think straight upon waking up, but you have the feeling that this is largely your fault. He’s a bit more fucked in the wakefulness department than usual. You feel horrible about what you did. You want to apologize to him again. You want to punch yourself for nearly doing exactly what your nightmare self did. 

You shrug nonchalantly instead.

‘Might have something to do with all your mental shit starting back up. Just maybe. You know, you might have an easier time thinking if you just gave yourself a few minutes to wake up instead of jumping straight to pulling plans out of your ass. Most people need some time before they can start acting like functional beings.’

‘Most people can go fuck themselves,’ he says. ‘The day they start offering brain upgrades I am there. Get this boot up speed better than a Mac, you'll see.’

You roll your eyes. He’s always saying shit like this. You’re pretty sure that Hal just doesn’t want to be human, and it’s not even in the same way as some of the vampire groupies out there. 

You’ve reached the conclusion in the past that he would be perfectly content as an android or something similar. He would also brag a _lot_ about having superior intelligence and all that shit, because that’s just how he is. He already does it anyway. You wouldn’t want to live in a world where he brags ten times more about being smart. 

‘Are you sure that’ll even happen during your lifetime? Because that’s some pretty fuckin’ advanced shit. Plus, provided that it doesn’t just turn your brain into useless junk or plague you with ads, how the hell are you going to afford something like that? Tech companies don’t care about your weird desire to eradicate your normal human behavior.’

You’re not paying attention to the game anymore, and you think doing anything else to it might just crash your entire laptop. You put it in the floor for now. 

You hesitate. You’re not very good at checking up on people without being painfully awkward about it. You rub the back of your neck and focus your gaze on your fucked up sheets. You’re going to have to buy some new ones.

‘How are you feeling?’ 

‘Nope, not doing feelings,’ he says, immediately defensive. ‘I'm fine and I'll keep being fine, we've got this under control and I'm not even engaging in your doubt of the completely fine system we've got going on. I made a meal plan, Dirk. I'm so much better at this than anyone else.’

You’re sighing before you even notice it. 

‘I wasn’t attempting to do anything related to feelings. We’ve done that shit so much lately that I think we’re both permanently nauseous. I’m trying to figure out if I have to worry about you dying after what happened. Hal, you literally pulled one of the stupidest stunts I’ve ever had the misfortune of witnessing. I hardly think you’re better at this than anyone else.’

‘I also don't want to talk about physical feelings,’ he groans. Of course he can’t make this easy. Why can’t he just make it easy and tell you that he isn’t on the verge of falling over? You think you picked the most difficult roommate in existence. 

‘Okay, fine. I may have encouraged you to bite me. Twice. But both times worked out fine, I barely even passed out and light comas are absolutely on the menu with what we're dealing with. If that was our worst case scenario, we're doing good. I don't even feel dizzy or cold or any of the things I'm supposed to be watching out for and I'm pretty sure if bloodloss was a thing I was feeling—’ he pauses, and his expression freezes. Before you have a chance to ask what the fuck, he’s continuing. ‘I wouldn't be able to argue so well with you,’

‘If you think encouraging me to bite you is acting like an asshole until I want to tear your goddamn throat out, you probably need to familiarize yourself with a dictionary. I didn’t want to do that. I told you minutes before that that I didn’t want to bite you again. I can’t believe you ever thought I was an idiot for fucking vampires. At least I didn’t go around attempting to piss them off to the point that they couldn’t control themselves.’

You frown a little. You hope he doesn’t take any of that as a reason to argue. You don’t want to deal with arguing with him at all, and it seems unwise anyway after what happened. You hold up your hand to stop him before he starts.

‘I’m sorry about that, by the way,’ you say. You have a lot of flaws, but you can damn well apologise when you’ve fucked up. ‘I shouldn’t have gotten so pissed off and I definitely shouldn’t have done what I did.’ You look down. ‘I was scared shitless that you were going to die after that.’

‘You have a pretty good excuse,’ he says, his voice a lot less aggressive than you had been thinking it would be. ‘The internet would have me believe that most new vampires just go for the nearest human whenever they're hungry, especially if they have any kind of emotional shit going on. I don't know how you have the control you have, but it's fine if you relax it a bit. Your venom is extra potent at the moment to compensate. You're not going to kill me unless you try, I don't think.

‘I'm sorry I baited you. I still think you need to come to terms with this because the cost for me is small and you'll actually be a danger to yourself, not to mention the neighbours if you try and resist.’

Hearing him apologize is like being punched in the gut. What the fuck. What the _actual_ fuck. 

‘Dude, I don’t think you’ve noticed, but I have the urge to do that at almost every conceivable moment. It’s just harder to handle when I’m hungry. I hid in the closet because I was worried that I was going to jump you the minute I saw you … It’s alright, I guess. Just don’t do it again.’

You bite your lip anxiously. 

‘What if the cost for you isn’t small one day?’ you ask.

‘I honestly don't think that's going to happen,’ you say. ‘Look, trust the fact that this is coming from me and know that I'm not the kind of guy who would sacrifice his life for anyone. I also am not above luring humans back to our lair, hell, I'd jump at the chance to catfish some pedos or whatever, we could go on a vigilante spree.’

‘You do know that regardless of whatever you think is going to happen, it’s always possible that you could end up being wrong, right? You could totally end up being wrong in this situation. Things might be all hunky fucking dory for a while, but there’s always the chance that I won’t be able to stop and you’ll be in for a trip to the hospital. Or you’ll be dead, which I would really rather avoid.’

You fold your arms over your chest and tap your fingers against your arm. He mimics your posture and you think wryly that this is the most you’ve been in sync since you slept together. Maybe you’re growing as roommates.

‘You're able to stop and I'm able to punch you in the dick guilt free. Plus we're both single hermits, so going nocturnal isn't going to hurt either of us and if we can't keep it in our damn pants then it isn't the end of the world. This is kind of the ideal arrangement. Tell me I'm wrong.’

‘I can’t believe you feel like you need the excuse of me draining you to punch me in the dick. I thought you were already morally fucked enough to punch dicks as you please.’

'That's why you love me, baby,' he says.

You can’t think of a comeback, so you flip him off. Sometimes actions are better than words. You’re also afraid that he’ll notice that he’s managed to throw you off due to his choice of words. 

You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he gets up and stretches. He’s really not bad to look at. Now that you’re getting on somewhat better, it’s easier to let yourself stare sometimes. Always, preferably.

‘I’m going to shower,’ he says. 

God, you wish you could join him. You want to get very, very close to him. Stupid vampire bullshit, presumably. The fact that you’ve had that kind of impulsive thought in the past watching him head to the bathroom with his towel is irrelevant. 

Fucking hell, you were so stupid to jump into bed with Hal.

‘Save some of the water for me,’ you tell him. You bend over to pick your laptop back up and try not to think about _anything_ related to Hal. It’s damn near impossible.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk struggles with his feelings and Hal confuses the matter by managing not to be a dick.

You choose to work on making sure that your laptop isn’t completely fucked and begin deleting mods. It’s a sad and unfortunate task. You were really happy with how screwed up the game was becoming, but you don’t want to have to go buy a new laptop because you destroyed your old one. There’s a metric shit-tonne of mods to delete though. You’re surprised the damn thing is still running. This is going to take a while. 

Unfortunately, it’s not exactly all-consuming work. Your mind drifts back to Hal and your conversation. You can’t say that you feel anymore at ease with the concept of feeding off him now, but at least you haven’t managed to kill him. Those few minutes after he punched you in the dick were fucking terrifying.

Just because you’ve been on the other side of this doesn’t mean that it’s any easier to see him pass out, and it didn’t help you feel any more confident that he was going to be okay at the time. You don’t want him to die. You don’t know what you would even do.

You can hear the sound of the shower turning off. A couple minutes later, he knocks on your door to tell you it’s your turn.

Your laptop itself is running fine now. The game is still shitty to the max, but that’s fine. You shut it off for now and get up to take a long ass shower. 

After you’re in the bathroom and have had the opportunity to get the water running, you don’t think you want to experience a shower with Hal. The water is ice cold before it begins to heat up to the scalding hot temperature you prefer, and you don’t enjoy cold showers at all, especially not now. You think you’ll spend around an hour under the water before you actually start to bathe yourself.

You drift off in your mind for ages before you actually begin washing yourself. You have a tendency to take very long showers. It was a point of contention back at home, and your friends have been baffled by it and inconvenienced by your lack of availability, but they’re missing out. There’s something immensely therapeutic about it. It soothes your nerves and helps you with your anxiety. It may not get rid of your problems entirely, but you’ll take what you can get. 

There’s a knock on the door when you’re halfway through washing your hair and you hear Hal say, ‘Get yourself sorted, dude. You need to get tucked into coffin.’

‘Please don’t tell me that you’re going to be saying shit like that from now on,’ you say. ‘I’ll be out in a minute.’

You start rinsing out your hair. You don’t feel like you’ve been in the shower nearly as long as you actually have. 

You finish up in the shower a few minutes later and step out of the bathroom with your towel wrapped around your waist. You head for your bedroom to get some clothes on, only to stop when you see the state that your door is in. 

‘Hal, why does my door look like a ten-year-old was let loose on it?’ you ask.

It’s covered in paper. Some of it’s recognisable, for example the trashy vampire novel cover with the swooning damsel with her tits half out. There’s a calendar of some kind. An invoice? For printer ink … Jesus Christ, Hal. 

You shouldn’t even be mildly surprised by this. This is exactly something that Hal would do. You’re just thankful that the victim was your door and not every surface in your bedroom. You’re lucky that of all things, Hal seems to have some respect for personal space.

‘Not allowed in your room,’ he says with typical Hal attitude. ‘You've got to sleep in my bed again. Curtains, you know.’

You take a deep breath. You will not let him piss you off again.

‘You know that you didn’t have to do this at all, right,’ you say, your voice monotone with disbelief. You look at the door again. ‘... What the fuck is this even supposed to be?’

He doesn’t clarify what the deep fried meme is, he seems to instead realise that you’re basically naked. He’s very obvious about looking at your chest and then very obvious about looking away awkwardly. He walks away without saying anything, heading for his room. Wow, that’s hilarious. 

You shake your head and open your door. It doesn’t take long for you to get dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. After you ditch your towel, you head to Hal’s room.

‘I thought the plan was to switch curtains, or do you just really like sharing a bedroom that much?’

‘I'll do it tonight.’ Hal says. He’s at his desk and even a glance at his computer tells you that a guy with that many tabs open should not be allowed to be near technology. You linger awkwardly at his door. ‘Actually, let me check when the new ones are going to come, if they're coming tomorrow I'd rather not do this more than I have to.’

‘Shit, you’ve already bought curtains?’ You probably should have done that yourself. Fuck. ‘I’ll pay you back.’

You finally close the door behind you and lean into it. Staying in the same room as Hal isn’t so bad. He isn’t nearly as insufferable as you make him out to be. Most of the time, that is. Hanging out with him isn’t terrible either. It’s definitely not one of your priorities though. You don’t _like_ hanging around him, or looking at his face, or talking to him, or touching him, or... 

You really wish you could blame all of your problems on vampirism. 

‘I told you, I'm in control. But yeah, pay me back. Gets here ... next week. Yeah, I'll swap curtains with you tonight. Much as I obviously super duper love having you konked out a foot away from me while I dick about on the internet.’

‘You’re beginning to give me the impression that you’re a control freak,’ you say. ‘And here I thought that you were enjoying our slumber parties.’

You sit down on the foot of his bed. You don’t think you have a single chance of not feeling awkward about spending this much time in his room with him. You don’t share rooms with each other, and especially not beds. You’re finding it difficult to believe that Hal hasn’t banished you to the floor for the night. 

‘Want me to braid your hair?’ he asks sarcastically, not taking his eyes off his computer.

‘I doubt that you really know how to braid hair,’ you say, challenging him. ‘I think mine is still too wet to do anything with right now, anyway.’ 

‘I know how to tell …’ he trails off and a pink flush grows up his neck to his ears. ‘Jesus Christ, okay, I had repressed my idiocy last night but apparently you already know I can read palms. Except I don't think I even followed through with it.’

You were wondering if he remembered anything from earlier. You thought about bringing it up to him, but between him waking up and the two of you getting your showers in, there wasn’t much of an opportunity for it. He’s pressing his forehead to his desk as if he’s not super fond of the memory.

‘I wouldn’t call it idiocy. You were tripping balls. You acted about how I would expect you to in that condition.’ You pause. ‘You... kind of followed through with it? You told me something about heart lines and passion, but I think you were past the point of being able to explain things efficiently. You forgot which hand is your dominant one. Then you fell asleep after rambling some more.’

‘Left handed,’ he groans, voice muffled because his lips are pressed into his desk. He lifts his left hand up and waves it jauntily above his head.

‘Are you sure?’ you tease.

‘It's bullshit, anyway. I got big brother points for offering my hands to Peta for practice.’

You can’t judge him for acting the way he did in that state of mind. You did plenty of stupid, painfully embarrassing shit in the past while you were fucked up. You think that his actions would have been more amusing to you if you hadn’t been as worried about him as you were. 

God, you hate being open. It’s one of your worst skills. However, judging by how he still hasn’t moved his head from his desk, you think he might need it. 

‘You know, it wasn’t that bad.’ you say. He turns his head slightly to peek at you. ‘Hanging with your loopy ass was actually kind of fun. I don’t think your calling in life is conducting palm readings while you’re high as fuck, though.’

You can’t quite make out his expression because of the desk, but you think it’s something positive. You don’t know why, but that makes you feel weird inside, and not in a bad way. You don’t know how to describe it. 

‘My mother will be devastated that I'm changing career paths again. Thought we were onto a winner with palmistry there.’

He pushes himself upright and you decide your cheering up duties are done. Thank God, you’re _way_ too awkward for this shit. 

‘I can show you what it's supposed to look like, though. If you're a fan of hearing vague statements that could just as easily apply to almost anyone else in the world.’

You shrug and say, ‘I gotta say, I have been wondering about the quality of your palm readings when vampire bullshit isn’t playing a huge role in your abilities. I’m down if you are.’

You wouldn’t necessarily mind him trying the palm reading thing again. You liked having his hand on yours last night. He may have been totally out of it and playing with your hand more than actually reading it, but it was nice. His fingers felt nice. You’re a fucking idiot and shouldn’t be dwelling on this shit. 

He gets out of his chair and onto the bed with you. He crosses his legs and you face him, your knees almost touching.

Instead of steering away from doing things that give you your stupid mushy thoughts, you’re tumbling right into them. You really shouldn’t be. You should be doing everything you possibly can to avoid being close to him, if only to get your brain to shut up about how attractive he is and how nice it would be to hold his hand. You have self control. You should be able to slam down all of these dumb desires before they become problems, but you’re not. You’re a damn idiot. 

It feels very intimate when he holds his hands out for yours. You shouldn’t have agreed to do this; you’re already feeling all weird and fuzzy from it and you’ve not even touched him yet, but it’s too late to back out now. You lift your hands and place them in his. Fuck, this is awkward. 

‘I’m left handed too, by the way,’ you tell him. ‘You seemed to think it was important earlier.’

‘It is. Your left hand is who you are now, because you use it more. Your right hand is your ... innate self? Inherited? Like, who you were born as. If there's a big difference, it means you're now different to your basic nature, usually because you've worked at it.’ He looks up at you, eyebrow raised. ‘Kinda like how your hands have weirdly different lines.’

You nod. His fingers feel nice. You want him to play with your hands and count your freckles like he did before. Hell, you want to run your fingers over each and every line on his palms. 

‘Makes sense, I guess,’ you say. ‘I’m offended that you think my hands’ lines are weirdly different. I was under the impression that this was a judgment free zone, Hal.’

You allow your left hand to drop down to your lap when he lets go of it. It’s kind of disappointing that he’s not currently giving both of your hands attention anymore, but now he can focus his attention on one hand _and_ touch it more. You’re really enjoying that, aren’t you? 

‘Both your heart lines are high, which means you're passionate by nature and you haven't changed that part of yourself. You do have more splinters on your right, which means that you were destined for a lot of heartbreak but somehow you've changed that. Interpret that how you will.’

Even your hands apparently think that you’re a hopeless romantic. Great. 

‘You mentioned the passion thing before. You just didn’t know which hand you were looking at. Maybe you aren’t as bad as I thought at palm reading when you’re high.’

His hands are warm against your own. They’re so stupidly warm and you want to keep your hands tucked into his forever. You really need to give yourself a mental slap because of how ridiculous you’re being. Hal’s hands are just hands, not something for you to blush like an idiot over. You need to get a hold of yourself, because this is almost exactly how you felt when you were crushing on Jake. 

‘What about your hands?’ you ask. ‘If you’re done with mine, that is.’

‘In a minute. This is your head line, and it goes all the way across on here, right, which means that you're logical.’ 

He picks your hand up from your lap and rests it palm up on his knee.

‘Right, and here's another change because this one curves down which means you're creative. And for some reason of course it's one or the other. Then we've got your life line which is really about your attitude towards life rather than your actual life and yours are pretty deep so you care about what you get out of life. And I actually can't even see your fate lines, hold up.’

He squeezes your hand in on itself to make the lines pop out more. You like the feeling of him holding you so firmly. 

‘So you hate your job, right?’ he continues, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re basically swooning in the privacy of your head. ‘Because obviously fate equals career. I'm sorry I don't have any tea or whatever to give you to complete the experience.’

You never realized that there was quite this much to palm reading. Of course, you’ve never actively sought it out or done any research on it whatsoever. You aren’t one to believe in things of this nature. However, it’s interesting to listen to Hal explain everything to you. That, or maybe you just like his voice. 

What’s _really_ interesting is that most of this is actually true. You’ve always had a thing for art, and it takes creativity to be able to think of body frames and otherwise for your projects. You tend to stay on the logical side of things in most situations. You suppose you could be considered passionate. Perhaps even _too_ passionate when it comes to your relationships. Still, you’re going to brush this all off as a coincidence. 

‘I think I can forgive you, but I’ll always remember your failure to set the mood properly. I can’t believe you don’t have any tea. That was the whole reason why I agreed to this.’ You don’t even like tea that much. ‘Are you gonna spill the details about your own hands now?’

He lets your hand go and you’re about to pull it back when he puts his own hand in it. You’re not going to complain, who are you to criticise how he shows you this? If it means that physical contact isn’t broken between you two for a while longer, so be it. There is literally no disadvantage to this. 

‘Okay, so my heart lines aren't as high as yours but I'm still a respectably passionate person, no surprises there. I also have these ones going along it, see, here,’ he points, ‘that apparently mean I have a wandering eye.’ 

He winks at you. You raise an eyebrow. So hands can tell people if someone is predisposed to cheating too? You’re learning all kinds of things today. You don’t comment on it, mostly because you think your expression does the trick and he’s already moving on before you have the chance.

‘Oh, right, so my palms are basically mirror images of each other, too, so I'm consistent as fuck. Or I refuse to grow and change as a person, which, you know, why change perfection? My head one goes almost all the way across, so I'm disgustingly logical, which is annoyingly true. And my life line's pretty unremarkable, but I have very strong fate lines compared to the other three fools who have let me look at their damn hands and you. So, I'm gonna stick with shit ‘til the end.’

He explains his own lines about exactly how you expect him to. You don’t know why, but you find it kind of endearing. You hate yourself for it. 

You wonder how many times he’s gone over his own palms. You know he said that he allowed Peta to use his hands for practice, but you feel like he’s had to have done this himself a few times to be able to recall what each of his lines mean so clearly. That, or he’s pulling it all out of his ass. Or Peta practiced a _lot_. You’re still holding his hand. You should probably let go of his hand to prevent this from getting weird. You’re an idiot who releases his hand entirely too late, and you immediately miss the weight of it in your own. 

‘Man, I wish I had thought to check your hands when we started doing this roommate shit. At least I would have had a little bit of warning about what I was getting into,’ you say. ‘That was a great slumber party activity, but I’m still disappointed by the lack of tea.’

‘I know, and my standards are higher than this too. I think that's the final nail in the palmistry career coffin, I can't get the fucking atmosphere right at all. Though if I start lighting candles you have my permission to slap me. And if there's a second Hal running round at the same time, kill the one with the candles. That's the clone. We don't want to see what an evil version of me would look like.’

The situation feels unusual yet comfortable at the same time. You and Hal don’t really hang out with each other like this. The closest you get is when you both absolutely have to exist in the same room at the same time, and that normally ends in arguing. This feels really different your typical dynamic, but it doesn’t feel bad. You always thought you would hate hanging around Hal, but you’re beginning to think that you were wrong. 

You thought he would have moved away by now, but he’s still as close as before. You want to touch him again, but you keep your hands to yourself. You aren’t an imbecile. 

‘Fuck, I thought this was the evil version of you. Don’t tell me that it’s possible for you to get eviler.’

‘I'd still want you to kill the clone if I was the evil one,’ he says, grinning. ‘Good Hal would be so boring.’

‘Hey, I never agreed to kill any of your clones. I’m not going to prison just because you don’t like alternate versions of yourself that have weird candle fixations or fall on the opposite side of wherever you are on the evil scale. You’re just going to have to live with however many clones you have out there.’ 

You’ve already had a nightmare about harming _this_ Hal, you don’t need more nightmares about doing so to nonexistent clones. You hope that he doesn’t attempt to convince you to go to sleep at any point, because you’re really not planning on it. You don’t need sleep. You’ve proven time and time again that you’re perfectly functional with little to no rest. For the most part, that is. 

‘Is palmistry the only slumber party activity you planned for this?’

You have just enough time to see his hand moving up and wonder what he’s doing before he touches your hair. You’re instantly reminded of the feeling of his fingers combing through your hair after you had sex with him, which probably isn’t a great topic to be thinking of when you aren’t even a foot away from him. It felt so nice to have him massaging your scalp then that you’re sure you would have fallen asleep if it had gone on any longer. From what you gathered last night, Hal shares your weakness. 

‘Looks like hair braiding is off the menu,’ he says. ‘If Peta was here we would have to discuss every one of all of our friends and their romantic possibilities, not even joking, but they're not so we're relieved of that.’

You grimace. 

‘Is that what other people do at sleepovers?’

He shrugs. ‘Are you not feeling magically tired because the sun's up though?’

‘Just because I got my neck chewed on doesn’t mean I’m no longer an insomniac.’

Admittedly, you are feeling a little tired, but it’s nowhere near bad enough that it’s an immediate problem. You’ve successfully pulled yourself through many nights before despite feeling exhausted, so you can totally handle this. You just don’t have much to focus on at the moment. You can focus on Hal, sure, but you would rather distract yourself with anything else. You’ve had enough mushy thoughts for one day, and it’s barely past sunrise. 

‘We could watch a movie?’ he suggests. ‘You know, traditional sleepover shit. Like _Legally Blonde_ , I think I've seen _Legally Blonde_ at least 20 times, it's still gold. Or a movie I won't shed manful tears of admiration in.’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen it,’ you say. ‘I’m down with it though. It’s gotta be decent if you’ve watched it that many times. Or you’re just fuckin’ weird as hell and have too much time on your hands. I’m thinking it’s a combination of the two.’

‘Well that needs to be corrected,’ he says, looking at you like you said something ridiculously offensive. ‘I usually just turn my monitor towards the bed for movies, unless you have a better idea?’

You hold your hands up in surrender. 

‘I’m pretty sure it’s not the end of the world if I haven’t seen Legally Blonde. Civilization isn’t going to crumble because one dude hasn’t seen it.’

You fiddle idly with the fabric of his covers while he’s busy getting the movie set up. You think your sense of smell has heightened ever since you turned, because it’s impossible to not pick up on his scent on everything in here. It was drove you to hide in your closet when you were hungry. Luckily, you’re not drooling over him this time around. He does smell nice though.

You have a feeling that you’ve somehow fucked up his typical movie watching routine when he places a book under the monitor. He’s not complaining though, which actually throws you off. Things between you and Hal haven’t been nearly as negative as they usually are, and you find yourself wondering if that’s a side effect of feeding off of him. 

You really need to do some adequate research on this shit, but you’re also hesitant about what you might find. You already feel guilty enough that you’re using him as your own personal blood bank in the first place. Still, you would rather know.

‘You ready for this?’ he asks. ‘Oh shit, I've seen this a billion times and I talk during movies anyway, is that going to piss you off?’

‘I figured you would probably talk through it no matter what. Movies with commentary are better anyway.’

He smiles at you. 

You know he smiled at you last night, but he was high as fuck then. He _never_ really smiles at you unless it’s for one shitty reason or another, and even then he normally opts for a smirk. It’s fucking adorable. You look away from him quickly. Yeah, your venom has got to be screwing with him mentally. That’s the only rational explanation for this.

Lucky you have a romantic comedy to distract you from your bullshit feelings. Yay.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk and Hal watch _Legally Blonde_. Hal's like ... really into it. Dirk's maybe catching half of it.

‘God I love this movie,’ Hal says, and you can tell he means it. It has the same damn effect on you as his smile, that he’s willing to share his passion like this. Your brain just isn’t giving you a single break today, is it? ‘Look at how fucking supportive her friends are. This is like the opposite of every other sorority or fraternity movie there is, it's so fucking wholesome.’

‘It does seem pretty damn wholesome.’ He’s more wholesome like this. You need to bang your head against the wall until you lose consciousness or wind up with brain damage, whichever one comes first. ‘Why does the movie industry portray sororities and fraternities as organizations full of petty alcoholics anyway? It’s almost painfully inaccurate.’

‘Right?’ he says. ‘There's a reason they say you keep your college friends for life and it isn't because they traumatise you into having Stockholm Syndrome.’

Hal fakes a swoon right onto your shoulder, which simultaneously causes you to tense up and strikes you with the urge to wrap your arms around him and hold him tight. 

‘God, I'm gay,’ he says. ‘I want to make that man cry.’

You force yourself to relax, though it’s a bit difficult considering that Hal is _right there_. You never thought in a million years that you would genuinely like being close to him. Your face feels the warmest it’s ever been since your body temperature got fucked in the ass by vampirism. 

You don’t know if you have really high standards or if you’re a failure among your own kind, but you don’t think this Warner dude is that hot. You decide to voice that. 

‘Hal, your taste in men is mediocre at best.’

‘Self burn,’ he laughs.

‘What,’ you say, every gear in your head grinding to an abrupt halt. 

Just those two syllables send your brain into a fucking meltdown as you try to figure out what exactly he means. He’s probably being sarcastic. Probably. There’s no way he would miss up an opportunity to fuck with you, even if it would mean implying something like _that_. 

This is Hal, he has no shame. He will fuck with you and confuse the shit out of you at every turn and laugh about it. Except his tone didn’t carry his typical note of sarcasm. You are digging this mental hole deeper and deeper by the second, and you don’t think you’ll be able to stop agonizing over it for days. 

You might be having a slight crisis, but you can still act like he never said that. You need to focus on the new bullshit he’s saying.

‘I don't want to have normal sex with him,’ he says. ‘I want to fuck him until he cries and admits he's not good enough for me or Elle. And then I want to get ice cream with Elle and wear out the hand I haven't already broken slapping that dude just high-fiving her continuously for an hour.’

‘He’s not even worth the sex at all, though, just look at him,’ you say. ‘He’s radiating this blatant “I send unprompted dick pics to people” aura and he looks like the suburban equivalent of an incel. He’s bland. I feel bad for your dick if that’s what turns you on. I also feel bad for your hands if you’re that intent on breaking them.’

‘Exactly, and he has smarmy early 2000s romcom lead aura like he's so unambiguously straight that he has sidekicks instead of friends. He'd look at me and think “that dude has the ass of a chick,” and I'd play along like he could have one night of “experimenting” where really he just got to do anal like all the rich girls he usually talks to won't let him and then I'd top him so well he'd follow me around just as pathetically as he's currently following Elle. God, don't call her Pooh Bear now you asshole, you just dumped her. Do you not get rage boners sometimes?'

You’re still freaking out internally, so you don’t process anything that Hal is saying for several seconds. He had to just be fucking with you. That’s what he does, and now you’re going to be dwelling on this for ages. You just need to write it off as bullshit, but you don’t know how to keep yourself from picking this shit to the very core and getting a massive migraine along the way. You’ve missed a good couple of minutes of the movie now. 

‘I don’t get rage boners for assholes who look like that,’ you tell him. ‘I have absolutely no desire to fuck him out of hate. He doesn’t even look fun to fuck. He looks like he’d be absolutely miserable to deal with. He’d probably whine the whole goddamn time. What’s the point in wasting your time and lube on that?’ You brush your hair out of your face. You hate how it gets after you’ve showered. It’s all wavy and messy. ‘Besides, I’m more inclined to punch the people I hate than I am to get in their pants.’

‘Glad to be the exception,’ he says.

You have to blink a few times after hearing his comment. You frown without fully realizing it. Your feelings about Hal are ... complicated, especially in light of recent events. You argue with him. You bicker nonstop on _good_ days. Sometimes you go out of your way to avoid encountering him just because you aren’t in the mood behaving the way you two always behave around each other. But still …

‘I don’t hate you,’ you say before you can stop yourself. 

Fuck. You just keep walking into these stupid feelings sessions, don’t you? You need to stop that.

‘I mean, you’re an insufferable douchebag most of the time and you can be a huge pain in the ass, and I know I do that too, but that doesn’t mean I hate you. I didn’t interpret ... earlier as hate fucking.’

‘Well damn, I don't hate you either,’ he says. ‘And no, it wasn’t hate fucking was it? I'm not taking that off the table though, even though I don't hate you. Last night was hot 'til my stupid body couldn't keep up with my dick.’

You don’t know what you expected. Part of you expected him to say that he does hate you and that you were totally wrong about the nature of your little fuck session. But that wasn’t what it felt like. None of your interactions with Hal contain any pure animosity, and they’ve only seemed to lessen in negativity ever since you turned. You don’t know if it’s because you’ve been spending more time around him or if the slave shit with vampires is true. You really fucking hope it’s not the latter. 

He says he doesn’t hate you. You don’t know how to respond immediately. It takes you a lot longer than you’d like to get the words out of your throat.

‘I screwed up last night,’ you say, frowning. ‘I would really rather not worry about potentially killing you for the sole purpose of having angry sex.’

‘Shh, no, look, she's about to run into Dickface at Harvard,’ he says, swatting at you.

Hal’s hand is on your chest longer than you thought it would be. It doesn’t feel bad. It feels really nice, and you want him to keep his hand there. He realizes his mistake all too soon and pulls his hand away. You have to fight the urge to reach out and thread your fingers with his. You’re not used to him touching you like this. You want him to do it more often. You want to touch him more often too. 

‘Okay, talking is allowed again,’ he says. ‘I fucking love this movie.’

You’re going to have to look up the plot of this movie later on, because if things keep going the way they are, you’re going to spend the entire duration of it thinking about him or talking to him instead of watching it like you should be. 

‘No shit,’ you say. ‘You just groped my chest for a good minute to keep me quiet.’

If he doesn’t want you talking through certain parts, maybe you should run your mouth through the whole movie. You wouldn’t mind getting his hand on your chest again. Or wherever else he sees fit. You need to stop being a dumbass. This is not what you need to be thinking about during Legally Blonde. 

‘I have seen this a million times, maybe I was making a move,’ he says. ‘Joking. Obviously I'd go for the hole in the bottom of the popcorn trick.’

‘Jesus, at least keep manners in mind if you’re going to do that. Some people consider it rude to just grab their meat out of nowhere.’

‘Okay, Casanova,’ he says grinning at you. ‘What are your moves during Netflix and chill if you look down on the classics?’

Hal needs to stop grinning and smiling at you. It’s making you think about dumb mushy shit, and you really shouldn’t be thinking about that shit at all. Seeing it makes you want to make him smile and grin more. 

It also makes you want to kiss him. His lips felt very nice against yours when you two were fucking. You’re just going to have to isolate yourself in your room once you’ve got the right curtains in there, because being around him is clearly fucking your brain up.

‘Deep discussions about the plot of Shrek, obviously. Makes the boners pop like fireworks.’

He snorts with amusement.

‘Okay so this girl seems like a bitch now but I swear at the end she and Elle should end up together. It's the secret lesbian ending that you just know they wanted to film. Look at them, attracted to Warner for not wanting to make him cry reasons because he's the kind of guy they “should” be attracted to and then both of them so hyper-focused on each other when at college you don't form rivalries, you just do your damn work.’

You wonder if there’s other movies out there that Hal likes as much as this one. It would be interesting to do this with him again. You would appreciate the opportunity to listen to him ramble on about characters and shit like this again. This is probably the first genuinely friendly experience you’ve had with him. You wouldn’t mind adding more to the list. 

He might not want to do anything like this again. You hadn’t considered that until now, but there’s always the chance that he won’t care much for having movie sessions or otherwise once you can enter your room without turning to ash. It’s somewhat disappointing, but you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up in the first place. And anyway, how would you be able to stop being a weird ass about him in your head if you kept hanging around him?

‘Yeah, you’re right.’ you say. ‘Directors are cowards as far as filming anything outside of social expectations goes. The most unrealistic thing is these two actually finding him attractive in a romantic way. Not only is he objectively dull in appearance and has a garbage personality, but the lesbian subtext is obvious as hell.’

He leans into you. He’s downright hellbent on making you feel like you have butterflies in your stomach like a lovesick teenager, isn’t he? You have to make a conscious effort to resist draping an arm around him, because he’s at the perfect angle for it and you really, really want to do it. Fuck him for doing this to you. 

‘Fuck yes, you get it,’ he says. ‘The only flaw in an otherwise flawless movie. There's always fanfiction.’

‘So is that what you do all day when you’re being reclusive? You stay in your room and read Legally Blonde fanfiction?’

‘Look who's calling who a recluse,’ he says.

‘Hey, I come out of my room and socialize more often than you. I’m not nearly as reclusive as you are. I’m practically the world’s biggest extrovert in comparison to you.’

He puts his hand on you again to shut you up. You shake your head exasperatedly to cover the fact that you’re losing your fucking mind.

‘Your palms must be right about you being passionate, at least when it comes to this movie,’ you mutter.

‘I haven't watched this in a while, I think I've got nostalgia enthusiasm. That and you haven't told me to shut up yet.’

‘Didn’t I tell you that movies are better with commentary? Because I’m pretty sure that I did. I’m not going to tell you to shut up unless you say something particularly idiotic.’

‘Okay, that's it, you're my new movie buddy. I don't make the rules except that yes, I do, it's my town and I absolutely do. As mayor, I assign you rank of pillow.’

You don’t have time to realize what’s happening until Hal is already leaning his body against yours with his head on your shoulder. You can feel your face heating up immediately and that stupid fluttery feeling in your stomach is back full force. The first thing that enters your mind is how incredibly _good_ this is. It makes you want to wrap your arms around him and cuddle the hell out of him. It makes you want to run your fingers through his hair and kiss him and do so, so much more with him. You’re such a fucking sucker for this shit. 

It’s hard to relax, and you can tell that he’s tense too. You swallow, uncertain as to how to remedy this. 

‘You do realize that you could have just asked to make yourself at home on my shoulder, right? I could have tidied things up in advance. I haven’t even dusted, Hal.’

Working your way into a one night stand is considerably less difficult than figuring out what the hell to do in a situation like this. You don’t know if you should do anything or not, but you do know that you really don’t want him moving away anytime soon. You bite your lower lip as you force yourself to relax a little, leaning yourself just slightly against him. It feels so fucking nice. He feels nice. 

He shifts too, closer and more comfortable. You’re nervous as hell, but you hope it isn’t showing.

‘Fucking disgraceful, that's what this is,’ he says. ‘Don't you know that a good Texan home is always ready for guests? I'm staying, but you're on thin fucking ice.’

‘Shit, I’m sorry. To be fair though, you did drop out of nowhere. I wasn’t expecting any guests. You know that it’s rude to show up unannounced, right? It’s in the Texan Commandments.’

‘Mmm that's true, should’ve called first.’

You want to curl up on the bed with him in your arms, but you’ll be damned if you even attempt that. Even if it does sound pleasant as hell.

You’re a rather uptight guy, so it’s pretty difficult for you to loosen up completely. Hal normally only increases your tension, but you’re discovering lately that he also has a way of soothing your nerves. You don’t know how, but the closeness and his warmth put you at ease, if only a little. It’s a drastic change compared to your usual self, at least, and you don’t think you mind it that much. You have a need to be in control at all times, but perhaps allowing yourself to slip just the slightest bit isn’t so bad. 

‘This movie always makes me want to go get my nails done and play therapist for the salon girl,’ he says. ‘They're always in the market for a stranger to solve their boyfriend problems.’

‘Go do it, then. It’s a win-win situation for the salon girl and your nails. Just don’t pick out a shitty color.’

‘Thoughts on red? Clear coat's for pussies.’

‘It’s a waste of money to get a clear coat at the salon. Or a nude. What the hell is the point in making nails look slightly less bland than they usually are? That shit needs to be handled creatively. Seeing people get boring shit like that is almost physically painful.’ You think for a moment. ‘It’s not a clear coat, so I don’t see why not. Get your nails painted as red as Satan’s asshole.’

You feel like something has shifted in the air between the two of you, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. It’s probably just your nerves. You have a tendency of worrying about things that either don’t matter or don’t exist in the first place.

You’re surprised that Hal isn’t saying anything else about the movie just yet. You like his voice. You want to hear him speak more, and you’re sure you will as soon as something else happens in the movie. You just have to wait a few moments. You don’t think you’ve ever met someone who likes a movie as much as Hal likes Legally Blonde. It’s endearing.

‘I went almost a whole year with black nails with red french tips.’ he says. ‘And eyeliner. No regrets, I looked hot as fuck as a pretend goth.’

You put a hand to your chest in mock offense. 

‘You were a pretend goth?’ you ask incredulously. ‘As a former goth, I’m shocked and offended. Traumatized, even. You do realize that that’s cultural appropriation, right?’

Your entire wardrobe in high school was monochromatic. Hell, it still kind of is. You gave yourself piercings and hung out with people who looked like the stereotypical definition of murderous Satanists. You were actually pretty tame in comparison to them, now that you think about it. 

‘Further proof for the gay storyline, by the way,’ Hal says, gesturing back at the movie. ‘Vivian is making major eyes at Elle. And in like five minutes she's going to get way too offended by the possibility of Elle sleeping to the top for “just a friend”.’

The tension is draining out of your body with each passing minute, and you feel like you only lean more against him than you already are. You don’t know how to interpret this little cuddle session that you and Hal have going on, but you’re enjoying it immensely. The thought of ending it doesn’t sit well with you. 

‘They should just make a sequel or a remake that throws out the compulsive heterosexuality in favor of their relationship. All they would have to do is transfer one of your fanfictions to movie format.’

‘Oh, I can't write it, I only read and judge. If I tried to write fanfiction it would turn out as a text based adventure game. Which, actually sounds pretty fucking awesome, I'd play the shit out of a Legally Blonde game that was actually good.’

‘Damn. I was under the impression that you were sitting on years worth of Legally Blonde fanfiction. The game does seem more like your style, though. There’s more room in that for you to be a sarcastic dick and to monologue about how you want to fuck the bland dude until he cries.’

‘Also, most of the fans actually like Elle with Emmett. Which I get, he's a sweetheart. Not my type.’

You shake your head. You’re beginning to wonder if you look dull. You aren’t overly fond of your appearance, but given that Hal wasn’t disgusted enough to avoid fucking you and what he may or may not have implied earlier, there’s a chance that you’re less than great to look at. By your standards, anyway. You don’t know if you should be disappointed or freaking out again over what Hal said earlier. 

‘Of course he’s not your type. He’s not hot, but at least he actually looks like he’s fuckable, whereas the other dude seems as dry as a saltine cracker.’

You really want to wrap your arm around him. Or lay down with him so that you can cuddle him better. These stupid thoughts that you’re having are so sweet that you think you might be giving yourself cavities.

Hal beats you to it, dragging your arms wrapped around his shoulders for you, successfully managing to get your cheeks to turn bright red and feel like they’re on fire. You are _not_ going to say anything about this. You don’t want to ruin what you’ve got going on here, and although you won’t admit it, you’re actually really fucking happy to be holding him like this. You give him a light squeeze and wonder if he’ll notice it or not. 

‘So maybe the solution is to make the outcome of the movie less monogamous,’ you suggest.

‘Are you suggesting a big poly mess? Because I am on board. Give me a full on community of lawyers just in this crazy, happy found family with sex. I'd watch Emmett have sex even if I wouldn't do him myself. God he's dull. I don't even think he would be hotter if he cried. Do not get thinking you can cry in front of me and I'll drop trow, by the way. This is an exclusively bland straight dude fantasy, hot gay dudes need not apply. I mean, let's not throw out the idea entirely. You can cry for me if you want. Yeah actually, Dirk, go ahead and cry a bit, let's see if it gets me off.’

Well, if your cheeks weren’t hot before, they certainly are now. Some of your earlier tension returns and you have to focus on forcing yourself to relax again.

‘I’m not fucking crying in front of you,’ you say. Why is he so good at winding you up? ‘Why the hell do you have a crying kink anyway?’

‘Control thing, I think. It's a hell of a power imbalance to have someone crying and dependant on you. I'm not exactly overpowering people any other way.’

Why does he have to do these things to you? _Why?_ You feel like your face is on fire and you absolutely hate it. You should hate him for it, but for some reason you can’t find it within yourself to. There’s actually a part of you that wants him to find more ways to make you blush—and nope, no thanks, you’re derailing that train wreck of a thought process before it can get anywhere. 

‘I think making someone cry for sexual reasons would just make me feel like a fuckin’ asshole, frankly. And you know that size doesn’t mean jack shit, right? Twinks can be surprisingly overpowering. Plus, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but there’s not that much of a size difference between us and I am perfectly capable of being overpowering. There’s still hope for you. Or you could try working out, but I think you’re too reclusive for that.’

You don’t know how you feel about a muscley Hal. On one hand, it’s kind of weird to imagine. On the other hand, your blush doesn’t appear to be getting anywhere close to going away. God fucking damn it.

You’re aware that your conversation topic isn’t anything that roommates would typically discuss, but you and Hal have spoken about much worse before. Out of all the things that you expect to happen next, the last thing you expect is to suddenly be laying with your back flat against the bed and your wrists pinned. 

Your first instinct is to stiffen up and figure out a way to get yourself out of this situation, but your brain grinds to a halt when you finally notice that he’s straddling you.

‘I think I can make do, yeah,’ he says.

You should push him off. You should knock him off of you and make sure that he doesn’t get back on top of you, but that’s becoming less appealing with each passing moment. This shouldn’t be turning you on. This shouldn’t be making you want to grind against him or fight to get him into your position, but you can’t quite listen to the rational part of your brain right now. 

And then Hal kisses you, and you’re all too eager to kiss him back while fighting to be closer to him at the same time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This basically starts with sex, so at your own comfort with how deep into it you read. Ctrl-f for, "You don’t know how long it’s been" to get to the end.

God, Hal’s lips feel good on yours. Especially when he bites you and works his tongue into your mouth. You may be the vampire here, but you would _really_ fucking love it if he got his teeth on you more often. You’re more than happy to drag your tongue against his. He’s like a drug that you can’t get enough of, except you aren’t even under the effects of the high you get from feeding on him. 

It should be disorienting, or confusing or _something_ , but you’ve been wanting to get close to him this entire movie and you don’t need the vampire fuckery to know he’s a damn good kisser. Whatever qualms or questions you might have are so far from the most important thing right now you can’t even think about them in the abstract.

You want nothing more than to get your hands free so that you can touch him. You want to feel every inch of his body and drag your fingers through his hair, but you can’t. It’s frustrating as hell, but the firm grip he has on your wrists also turns you on. Just like his dick against yours. 

It’s hard to keep yourself from moaning with him grinding against you like that. He may have you pinned, but you can still move your hips enough to increase the friction between the two of you. You kiss him harder, moaning into his mouth and doing anything you can to get your teeth on his lips.

Admittedly, you aren’t used to being pinned. What he’s doing to you feels fucking great, but you’re also competitive. You turn your head to break the kiss and you swear that your mouth feels like it’s tingling. 

‘You should let go of me,’ you say, your words a little too breathless for your liking.

You never imagined that he would give up immediately after your suggestion, and he laughs lowly confirming that. You think you can cope with it for now, if only because of how incredibly good it all feels. You’re a sucker for your partners paying special attention to your neck and the way he’s sucking roughly at you feels amazing. 

‘Ask nicely and I'll consider it,’ he says.

Hal speaking against your neck shouldn’t feel as good as it does. You make a disappointed noise, only for your breath to hitch when he bites you.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ you gasp, pressing your neck back against his teeth. You want more of that sting, and you hope in the back of your mind that your neck bruises from this. 

‘You know I’m not going to ask nicely,’ you mutter. 

His fingers linking with yours sends a pulse of warmth to your chest and, for a reason you can’t fully grasp, a wave of arousal throughout you. You squeeze his hands and grind harder against him in response.

‘I think you are,’ he says. ‘I'm not letting you up until you do. Maybe I won't even if you beg me, you're hot as fuck like this.’

Fuck him for making you feel this way. You’re caught between everything feeling like too much yet not enough at the same time, and you’re almost desperate to free your hands so that you can get his damn clothes off of him. You want to pull his pants off of him and get your mouth on his cock. You want to grab him and squeeze him and tease him as much as he’s teasing you. 

‘You’re wasting your time,’ you lie. ‘I don’t beg.’

You’re panting and groaning with every touch and bite he gives you and it makes your lie even less effective than it might have been otherwise. His dick against yours has your stomach feeling tight.

‘I can’t believe _Legally Blonde_ really turns you on this much,’ you joke, but your tone is lost due to how breathless you are. You will gladly watch _Legally Blonde_ with him over an over if it means doing this again. He’s hot as hell on top of you.

‘Not the movie,’ he says. ‘You. _Fuck_ , Dirk, you're impossible to resist.’ He sucks at your earlobe and you actually whine. ‘I want you so bad, it's almost enough to make me want to let you go. Beg for me, Dirk, beg so I can bite the rest of you as well.’

You don’t think you’re going to be able to keep yourself from begging for much longer. You can try to wait him out in the event that he gives up before you do, but you think that the odds of that happening are almost painfully low. He’s doing everything he can to break you, and you’re already a panting mess. You’re going to wind up melting if this continues. 

‘You’re just going to have to cave in, because I’m sure as hell not begging,’ you insist.

You arch your back in a useless attempt to get closer to him. This is fucking killing you. It’s so tempting to give in, but you think you can hold out for at least a few more minutes. You want him to bite you more. You want to do so much more with him. 

You try to get up, to flip him over—to do _something_ —when he begins to let his fingers roam down your wrists and onto your forearms, but he’s clearly expecting it. He presses you harder into his mattress. 

You’re totally fucked here, aren’t you? His hands stroking over your skin alone are enough to make you needy. 

‘Hal,’ you moan. A faint plea rolls out of your mouth after his name, but there’s no way he could have heard that, right?

You think that you could happily kiss him forever. His lips feel amazing against your own, and you would give anything to be able to kiss them whenever you please. Making out with Hal is different from doing the same with anyone else, and you’ve kissed plenty of guys in your time. You kiss him like you’re dependent upon it. 

He pulls your wrists above your head and transfers both into one hand. He strokes down your face and pulls your chin up to kiss you even deeper. He traces down your neck to grab your shirt collar and holds you so tight.

At this rate, you’re going to end up coming in your pants. You would much rather go further with Hal than feel like a horny teenager again. For someone as uptight as you, being pinned down and at Hal’s will should be hell, but it’s the complete opposite and you aren’t even sure why. 

You think you’re quivering now and you can’t get the friction you need against him. You’re getting desperate. You want to touch him more than anything. 

‘Hal, _please_ ,’ you pant. ‘I want to touch you.’

‘God you're fun to tease,’ he says.

Every touch and bite has you aching for more. You can’t control the noises pouring out of you any longer and you’re past the point of caring. You’re about to begin whining for him to let you do _something_ when he kisses you and releases your hands. None of your built up desperation vanishes with your newfound freedom, though. 

You’re quick to cup his cheek and drag him into another kiss, your fingers lingering on his face until the urge to touch him more becomes too much for you to resist. You drag your hands over everything you can reach of him. You slip one hand under his shirt and flatten your palm out against his stomach, while your other hand travels up the length of his back. 

You can’t keep your fingers in any specific place. Soon enough, the hand occupied with his stomach is slipping below his waistband to squeeze his cock. You kiss and bite and suck on his neck almost as if you’re starving for it. 

‘You’re a dick,’ you murmur into his skin. 

‘You're fucking fantastic,’ he moans.

He sits up so he can strip his shirt off. An involuntary whine pulls itself out of your throat when he leans away from you, and you would be absolutely mortified if you weren’t as turned on as you are. The brief loss of contact is worth it, because now you can let your hands roam all over his body without his shirt getting in the way. 

He pushes your shirt up to your armpits, and you’re quick to finish the job by yanking it off and tossing it to the floor. You wrap your arm around his neck so that you can drag him down into another kiss, making sure to nip as much as you like at his lips. You use your other hand to palm his dick through his pants, stroking and squeezing at him in an effort to pull more noises out of him. 

You don’t think you’ve ever hated clothes more than you do right now. You want him completely naked in front of you. You want to map out his body and press yours against his so fucking badly.

He pulls you into a roll to get you both on your sides and shoves his pants down. He starts to pull yours down too, but he gets distracted groping your ass instead. 

‘Fuck, Dirk,’ he groans, pulling you closer. 

‘I think that’s the idea,’ you say. It’s getting harder to speak without fucking your words up, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You don’t think you ever feel this desperate when you’re having sex with anyone else. Usually you’re perfectly capable of taking things slow and pausing shit long enough to get your clothes off, but you can’t do that with Hal. You can’t stand to stay away from him long enough to do fuck all. He’s addictive as hell. Even him groping your ass feels too good to be possible, and you’ve had plenty of dudes do the same thing. 

Kissing Hal and grinding against him like this is something you could do forever, but it’s the idea of being able to do more with him that encourages you to pull back from him long enough to finish getting your pants off. After you’ve successfully kicked them out of the way, you go back to kissing him, keeping your hips pressed up against his. You run your fingers through his hair and down his back, and you make sure to get a handful of his ass too. 

Your brain feels like it’s gradually becoming more static than cells. You slide your hands to Hal’s hips and move him so that he’s laying on his back. You continue kissing him for a few moments longer before you begin moving down the length of his body, and you only stop once you’re hovering over his dick. You wrap your hand around it and press your lips to the head.

‘Go easy on me,’ he gasps. ‘Already too close, fuck.’

You raise your eyebrows briefly at his request. It’s tempting to tease him to his breaking point, especially after what he just did to you. It’s also tempting to overwhelm him, even if you would push him over the edge in the process. 

You run the tip of your tongue over his slit slowly and rub circles into him with your thumb. You take the head of his cock into your mouth and give it a sharp suck. You could take him all at once if you wanted to, but where would the fun in that be? 

You gradually take him into your mouth inch by inch, but you make sure to do it particularly slowly. You roll your tongue over the underside of his length and give him a squeeze whenever he seems too quiet.

‘Oh fuck, you feel so good,’ he says. ‘Fuck, Dirk, oh my God.’

You rest your free hand on his thigh. You pet the skin there gently, rubbing circles and patterns into him. Hal is moaning and speaking with no filter, and the expression on his face is absolutely gorgeous. The way he says your name is hot as hell. You’re going to have to do this more often. You hum softly as you take more of him into your mouth. 

You want to ruin him. You want to tease him until he can’t handle it anymore and begs for you to give him more. Each noise he makes has you aching though, and you want to do so much more with him than just this. 

You begin to bob your head while moving your hand up and down the part of his shaft that’s still exposed. You hollow your cheeks out, wanting to get every noise you can out of him.

He starts to stroke your hair, and you moan around him.

‘Dirk, holy f-fuck, you—’ he stutters. ‘Can't hold back much longer.’

You don’t know what you want. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy sucking him off. You’re not innocent by any means; you fucking love getting a good dick in your mouth. Part of you wants to keep going until he comes down your throat, but the other part of you wants to see what happens if you stop. 

It’s hard to pull back until you’re a breath away from his cock when you’ve gotten him to this point. Every moan that leaves him sounds like music to your ears, and you’re eager to hear what noises he’ll make when he comes. 

Plus, he’s beautiful like this. You have to fight the urge to keep going. 

You look at him, keeping your hand on his cock so that you can stroke him. You think you’ll let him decide. 

‘Do you want me to keep going?’

Christ, he looks good like this, lifting his hips up into your hand. You like seeing him as needy as he is right now. You briefly consider staying where you are and edging him even further, but you’re feeling immensely needy yourself. Hal’s teasing almost drove you up the wall, and sucking him off has only made your situation worse. At least he isn’t holding you down anymore, as hot as that was. It’s easier to deal with desperation when you can move. 

He strokes your hair back gently. 

‘God you're hard to say no to,’ he says. ‘Get up here.’

‘Would you rather it to be _easy_ to say no to me?’ you ask, tilting your head to the side. You want him to touch your hair more.

You give Hal’s dick a few more lazy strokes before moving back up so that you can press a kiss to his neck, then his jaw, and finally his lips. You hope he doesn’t mind you kissing him after having his dick in your mouth, because you’ve discovered that you are _very_ fond of doing this with him.

He pulls you closer with an arm around your neck and kisses you deeper. He’s moaning and desperate and completely and utterly irresistible.

You wouldn’t be capable of moving away from him even if you wanted to. You grip his hair to keep yourself grounded as he takes your dick into his hand, your breath coming in gasps with each stroke. You grind down on him and slip your hand lower so that you can roll the bud of his nipple between your fingers, pinching and squeezing it.

You like to imagine that you’re fairly decent at figuring out what your partners are fond of. It wasn’t difficult to conclude that Hal has a thing for his nipples being toyed with after he told you to touch them when you were fucking earlier, and he was rather responsive to all of the attention you gave his neck then. Now you can note that he reacts well to his hair being messed with. You’re learning more about him with each and every second of this. 

‘Fucking hell, Hal,’ you groan.

Your brain feels like it’s been turned into liquid and it’s all because of him. What’s worse is that you _like_ it. You would have hated him for it a week ago, and you’re certain you wouldn’t be this close to him in the first place. 

‘How do you want me?’ he asks.

You nearly laugh at his question. It’s hard to laugh when you’re moaning the way you are, though. 

‘Do you really think I give a shit at this point? And unless you have something else in mind, your dick is pretty fuckin’ close to one of the available options.’

He pushes your hip and moves in between your legs. You take a deep breath once he begins to push his dick into you. You’re so turned on that there’s barely any resistance, and you find yourself wondering how it is that _Hal_ of all people has done this to you. 

You groan as he moves his fingers to your ass. God, you’d love for him to fuck you in the ass. You would love to do the same to him. Another time, though. 

You loop your arm around his shoulders so that you can tug him low enough for you to kiss him hard. You run your tongue over his and shudder. Kissing him is intoxicating. You move your hips and clench down on him while you play with his nipples, wondering just how noisy he can get. 

‘God, Hal, you feel so fucking good,’ you gasp. You can’t believe that you’ve been missing out on this for as long as you have.

‘Fuck, Dirk,’ he groans.

It’s becoming very difficult to focus on any individual thing at the moment. His dick inside you feels fucking amazing, and you don’t think you can quite stop yourself from clenching down on it. You’re close. You can tell by the slight shake to your body and the ache that is on the verge of consuming you. You want this to go on forever, but you and Hal have edged each other for far too long to be able to last for any respectable amount of time. 

Your fingers are fisted in his hair by now, and you’re trying your best to avoid gripping too hard. He sounds so good like this, and it makes you feel good to know that you did this to him. He’s turned you into a moaning mess too. You don’t think you’ve ever been this loud during sex, or even this shaky. 

Your foreheads are touching, your breath mixing as you gasp together. You stroke yourself roughly, not giving a shit about anything that isn’t chasing that addictive ache. You don’t think you can stop saying his name.

He grips your hip and starts to fuck you harder and faster. He feels so _good_.

He’s so fucking gorgeous when he hits his climax. You think you freeze for a moment just to watch him, but you can’t tell if you really do or if things are just moving extremely slowly for you. You love the sound of him crying out, and the expression on his face is beautiful. You are _definitely_ going to commit that image to memory. 

You don’t know when his hand begins stroking you instead of your own. You just know that it feels good. His teeth digging into your shoulder, his dick inside of you, and his voice are all so inexplicably _good_ and you know that you aren’t going to last.

‘Come on, Dirk, come for me, let go, _fuck_ , you're so fucking good.’

You clutch him tightly as your body tenses, a shudder running up your spine and moans spilling out of you uncontrollably. You think you clench down on his dick harder than you ever have on another in your life. 

‘Hal, Hal, _fuck_ ,’ you pant.

You can’t see or make sense of anything for a good while. When you finally come back down, you’re shuddering from the aftershocks and your head feels fuzzy.

You don’t know how long it’s been since you last had sex without the influence of some kind of vampire bullshit, but holy _shit_. You haven’t come that hard in a while. 

It’s probably just because of the edging or the lack of venom or feeding, not because Hal is just that good to have sex with. Probably. The last time you had sex with him was pretty great, though. Fuck this train of thought. 

You are a sucker for intimacy through and through. You lean into the hand stroking your hair and the kisses he leaves on your skin. You’re totally blissed out like this and you’re loving it. You can’t bring yourself to give a shit about moving away from him. He’s warm and it feels so nice to be near him like this. 

You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him. You cup the back of his head so that you can feel his hair and rub his scalp. You should talk about this or get away from him, but you don’t want to.

‘So, that happened,’ he murmurs. ‘I'd apologise for being forward if I could even slightly make that sound sincere, but nope, not sorry. Kinda thought that was awesome.’

You’re content to lay on his bed and cuddle him in silence, but evidently that isn’t going to be happening. At least not the silence part. 

You hope that he doesn’t pull away, because you’re enjoying this way too much for it to end now. You are a cuddly motherfucker by nature. It’s always a disappointment when you don’t get the luxury of snuggling up to someone after fucking them. Your hold on Hal tightens a bit.

You tend to overthink your problems until you can’t stand yourself anymore. It’s tiring and stressful, but you have yet to find a way to prevent yourself from doing that. You also do that with important conversations. You suppose it’s fortunate that Hal is taking the plunge for you, because you know that you would agonize over this for days after your head cleared up. 

‘Mhm,’ you hum. You’re not in the mood for dealing with words right now, but you guess that it’s a necessary evil. ‘I’m not apologising for something we clearly both enjoyed, then. My brain feels scrambled because of you. In a good way.’

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I'm cool if you are. I mean, I'm probably cool even if you aren't, we should probably just assume that I'm cool regardless and always, but …’

You take a deep breath and resist the urge to shut him up by kissing him. It would likely piss him off or make this situation painfully awkward, or both. You’re not going to ruin this if you can help it. He groans into your neck, presumably embarrassed.

‘I'm just saying,’ he continues, ‘we don't have to make any kind of deal of this. I'm not, like, suddenly desperate for a heart to heart about hidden meaning, I'm cool with leaving this at “hot roommates had sex” but less like the title on a bad pornhub vid. Or exactly like that, considering.’

Hal seems to relax more, so you take that as an indication that it’s okay to keep doing this. You’re more grateful than you should be, but you have enough on your plate as it is, so you aren’t going to give yourself hell for cuddling up to your roommate and liking it. Hal smells good and feels good against you and that’s all that matters. You can ignore the fact that you want to do this on a regular basis with him by blaming it on your clingy bullshit. 

‘You’re kind of making a deal out of this by going on about it, though,’ you inform him. ‘We don’t have to talk about it. We had sex earlier and didn’t say jack shit about it, and the only difference then is that there was vampire fuckery at play. We can just acknowledge it and stop worrying about it. Unless you want to have a heart to heart and this is your roundabout way of doing that.’

You rub your eyes. God, you’re feeling tired.

‘Personally, I’m content with laying here like a lazy sack of shit and possibly getting you to tell me the ending of Legally Blonde. You know, since I missed it.’

‘Okay, so we're both cool,’ he says awkwardly. 

_Theoretically_ , a heart to heart wouldn’t be horrible. You would get an opportunity to get down to the potentially nonexistent root of your little hook up with him, though you would also get an opportunity to humiliate yourself so badly that a walk in the sunlight would be in order. 

That is, if you fessed up about the weird feelings and thoughts you’ve been having about Hal that are in no way whatsoever romantic. He would call you an idiot and ridicule you for it, you’re sure. Not talking to each other like functional human beings is for the best. There’s no reason to go digging into a couple of quick fucks for answers.

‘What were we up to, was Elle defending Brooke yet?’ he asks.

‘You’re completely fucking wrong if you think I have any solid idea of where we were in the movie.’ You pause for a moment. ‘I know I was defending the one guy against your poor taste in men, so it was somewhere around or after a scene with him in it. I think she was doing some kind of lawyer shit, but I didn’t exactly get a chance to see what was going on beyond that.’

You are a mushy fucking sap, because you adore the feeling of his face against your chest as he snuggles into you and the way his body feels against yours.

‘Right, because Emmett is supervising Elle in the courtroom because asshole teacher is an asshole. So, Elle gets up in court and a couple of her sorority sisters are there and Paulette is too, because the best part about this movie is how much everyone wants Elle to succeed, it's inspiring as fuck, but Elle's nervous and stuttery because she hasn't done anything like this before.

‘And she's cross examining Brooke's step-daughter, who has major attitude and a perm, and then she figures out that there's a hole in her story because step-daughter said she was washing her hair and that would have ruined her perm and it's the perfect “oh snap” moment because she uses her beauty knowledge but it's really her interrogation that wins it and it's a perfect metaphor for her creative thinking and she wins the case, duh. And then it flashes forward to her doing an awesome valedictorian speech, I'm such a slut for good speeches in movies and she's getting engaged to Emmett and she and Vivian are best friends and it's just sweet as hell. Oh and Warner barely graduates and no one likes him.’

His love for this film is entirely all too endearing, but you force yourself to listen to him summarize the end instead of getting all soft inside of your head over him. You still do that, but you manage to keep it under control enough to actually absorb what he’s telling you. 

You are definitely going to have to watch movies again with him sometime. You enjoyed this a lot, and having sex with him was a bonus that you’re trying to not look forward to doing again. If you do it again. 

You’re probably going to do it again, aren’t you? You haven’t exactly proven that you’re capable of resisting him. 

‘Good for her,’ you murmur. Your thoughts are still moving slower than a snail, and getting words out is ten times harder than processing them. ‘I still think there should be an alternate ending that’s considerably more poly, but it was a good movie regardless. I always assumed it was one of those movies with a chronic amount of bitchiness and backstabbing, not something pleasant.’

You _could_ force yourself to keep your eyes open. You probably should, actually, but you can’t grasp a reason why. Letting your eyes stay closed sounds like a perfect idea, especially since you’re cuddled close to him and more comfortable than you’ve felt in a while. You think he’s kissing you? You’re probably just imagining things by now, but it feels really nice. You really like his lips. 

‘Found the cure for your insomnia, bro,’ he says. ‘It's my dick.’

You take way too long to respond to his comment, but you’re not so tired that you can’t see a great opportunity for snark. 

‘I can’t believe your dick is so bad that it’s putting me to sleep,’ you mumble. You crack your eyes open, just to see his reaction. 

Even when you’re on the verge of sleep, your mind seems hellbent on picking out features to feel overly fond of. You like his eyes a lot, and his nose. Actually, you just like his face in general. You want to kiss him badly. The only reason you don’t is because you don’t feel like putting any effort into moving.

Hal is absolutely adorable when he’s grinning. He’s even more so when he notices that you’re looking at him and immediately changes his expression into one of outrage. A fond smile creeps onto your lips. You’re an idiot for letting yourself feel this way about him, but you’ve already concluded that it’s too late to turn things around. Your heart has officially kicked your brain’s ass. You’re fucked.

‘Oh, burn,’ he says sarcastically. ‘If you liked my dick any more, I'd have to chop it off and give it to you, shit's embarrassing.’

‘God, please do that,’ you mutter, smirking. ‘I could use a more realistic dildo, and I would be able to get off without dealing with your bullshit. There’s literally no cons in that scenario.’

Fatigue is a bitch and won’t allow you the privilege of peeking at him any longer. You close your eyes as you begin to drift off, only opening them again when he changes positions so he isn’t lying directly on top of you. 

You manage to complain about him moving, but your voice is a lot quieter and you aren’t sure if what you’re saying makes any sense. You fall asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk lies to Hal. Hal doesn't pick up on it. More importantly, sex!

Earlier, you were totally opposed to sleeping due to your nightmare situation. That, and you were aware that you wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway because of your screwed up brain. Now, you’re sleeping peacefully and without any nightmares. You tend to sleep better with someone at your side. 

You don’t experience any dreams for a while. You’ve been enveloped by nothingness and it’s the best way to sleep. It can’t last. Eventually, you dream.

You dream about touching Hal, stroking your hands over his skin and feeling his hair between your fingers. You dream about kissing him everywhere you possibly can. His lips, forehead, cheeks, chest, _everywhere_. You dream about holding him and bantering with him and so much more. It leaves you feeling warm on the inside. 

No matter how comfortable or tired you are, you can’t ever seem to sleep without waking up every now again. The sun is still up when you open your eyes and see that he’s still laying with you, his head on your chest and his arm around your waist. You’re glad. You shift just enough to be able to hold him better, press a kiss to the top of his head, and drift back off to sleep. 

When you next wake up, it’s dark outside. You drag a hand across your face and try to go back to sleep, but you know that you won’t be able to.

The first thing you notice is that you feel like shit. Your body is all achey and sore, and not even in the good way. Your mouth is dry and you swear you have the beginnings of a headache. There’s no reason for you to be like this, though. You slept for hours and only woke up once, and you dreamed about stupid fluffy shit that you have no business dreaming about, not nightmares. You had sex that left you feeling so damn amazing that you’re surprised you weren’t drooling afterwards. You can’t think of anything that would explain why you feel this way. 

Except you can, now that you _really_ think about it. You’re hungry. There’s no other explanation that makes sense except pure bad luck, and considering that Hal’s scent is hitting you more forcefully than usual, you’re leaning toward the latter. 

You groan and rub at your forehead, barely paying attention to him as he moves. It doesn’t feel quite so bad that you need to make a break for your closet again, but it’s still fairly overwhelming. Having him this close is not helping. 

‘Morn-evening,’ he says. ‘Apparently I'm giving up my diurnal ways with you.’

You don’t know if you can bite him again without a guilty conscience. Your nightmare from before still has you worried, and it doesn’t help that it almost came true when he pissed you off. You’re scared shitless of hurting him or worse, and you don’t want to do that at all. Your feelings aren’t doing you any favors in this situation, because they’re making you even more reluctant to feed on him again. 

Hal doesn’t completely move away, thank god. You shouldn’t be allowing yourself to be this close to him given your state, but you’re a total idiot who can’t say no to physical contact. You move so that you can wrap your arm around him and give him a gentle squeeze. Jesus, you’re such a clingy bitch. You need to be stopped. 

His fingers feel nice on your chest. You need to stop getting the urge to kiss him. You frown. 

‘Sorry,’ you mutter. ‘I can’t think of any solution for fixing your sleep schedule that isn’t annoying and exhausting. Unless you knock yourself out for the night.’

‘Not like I have a 9-5 anyway,’ he says.

You sigh. You wish you could go back to sleep. You think that vampirism has killed all the benefits of rest for now. You’re not feeding on him. You’ll find someone else. 

‘I need to go do shit tonight,’ you tell him. What a great lie. He definitely won’t question you about what shit you need to do or otherwise. Tired you shouldn’t be trusted with lying.

‘Go, like go go?’ he asks. He rubs his eyes sleepily. ‘Like outside? I need to get groceries anyway, let me go. I'm an excellent errand boy, just write me a list.’

Fuck, this isn’t where you intended your lie to go. You begin to try to think of something else to tell him so that he doesn’t leave to fetch shit for you that you don’t even need, but ... that actually might not be that bad. You _could_ tell him that you have to go see someone, like Dave, but you don’t want to make this lie bigger than it has to be. You can give him the money to buy whatever the hell you can think of, and then you can leave while he’s gone. You should be able to get back before him if you hurry. 

‘Are you sure you wanna play fetch?’ you ask. ‘I didn’t think you were generous or selfless enough to be an errand boy. In fact, I figured you would straight up avoid doing anything like that. Are you getting soft?’

You chew on your lower lip. You can think of some shit for him to find. You’re sure that there’s things that you genuinely do need, and it might be wise to throw some items in that are deeper inside of a grocery store than a carton of milk or toothpaste. 

You can feel him move closer. Your heart needs to stop being so weak, especially over something as innocent as a totally platonic cuddle session. There is _nothing_ to read into here, so that fluttery sensation inside you needs to take the hint and fuck off. Hence, there isn’t anything wrong with you brushing his hair out of his face. It doesn’t matter if your hand lingers against his head.

‘I'm not soft,’ he says. ‘I'm just going out anyway. And I'm selflessly protecting the streets from the fierce new vampire. That's kind of a factor. You should bite me before I leave so you don't get hangry.’

And there he goes, kicking your otherwise foolproof plan directly in the ass. You have officially decided that Hal is a motherfucker to the core for attempting to ensure that you don’t turn into a hazard on legs. How dare he look out for your own well-being and that of those around you. You wish you could let him know how much this is inconveniencing you without giving yourself away. 

‘You’re so soft that you make blankets look like sheets of iron,’ you say, rolling your eyes. ‘You’re so noble. You should be knighted for your deeds.’

He seems to like the attention to his hair, so you allow yourself the luxury of playing with it as you please. 

‘Okay, I'll take the knighting, but only because swords are awesome,’ he says.

‘You know, I’m not feeling that hungry. I think any biting can wait until after you get back. I’d like to get a shower in before that inevitable shit show, anyway.’

Hal is smart. You’re relying on luck and his trust to avoid being caught. It feels wrong to be doing this in a way, but you’ve convinced yourself that it’s for the best. You hurt him earlier. You’re not doing that again if you can help it. Feeding on him will only increase your odds of harming him.

‘Okay, I guess that's your domain. Hey, I was having a philosophical thought earlier. If you're drinking my blood, does that mean technically you're still consuming half the groceries?’

Holy _fuck_ , he actually accepted it. He genuinely believes you. You feel like the biggest douchebag in existence for lying to him, but it’s a necessary evil. You are not breaking down and taking the risk of tearing his throat out just because you feel guilty for this. Something gives you the impression that you would feel much more guilty if you managed to maim or kill him. 

‘Is this your way of figuring out if I’ll still be contributing to the cost of groceries? Because I don’t plan on wrecking any of our arrangements due to a simple change in diet.’ You stare at the ceiling, thinking. ‘I mean, I am technically consuming what enters your bloodstream. I wouldn’t consider that to be anywhere near half of the groceries at that point, though, and it’s not like it makes a difference anyway. The real tragedy here is that I’ll never know what pizza tastes like again.’

You have literally no fucking idea if you can still eat regular food or not. You also have no motivation to consult a search engine over it. You might be ditching for a while, but you’re intent on staying in bed until you _have_ to get up.

‘The nerd in me wants to make you try and taste things and write down what happens in an actually simple way. And see if me eating different things changes the taste of my blood, shit like that. I'm feeling really cross with the internet's lack of good resources. Maybe I'll start a blog. I'm not going to start a fucking blog. It would be nice to know some shit though. My friends are losers who absolutely don't know any vampires, I can guarantee it. Ugh, no, never mind, I don't want a vampire mentor, I hated _Interview With A Vampire_.’

You’re beginning to get the impression that he doesn’t know that he’s a total fucking dweeb. You could point that out and cut his rambling short, but for some reason you choose not to. It’s almost as if you enjoy listening to him ramble and jump from topic to topic, getting so far from the original discussion that you’re wondering if he should begin to drop breadcrumbs after every word he speaks. However, he’s still on the subject of vampires, so you suppose he deserves some credit there.

‘I’m down for irresponsible experimentation if you are. I’m curious to see if vampires actually are deathly allergic to garlic. You should pick up garlic at the store so we can test it out.’

You’re so lucky that Hal is your only roommate. Not only are you two fully nude and doing nothing to cover yourselves, but you have some pretty strange conversations. This is far from the worst of them.

‘What did _Interview With A Vampire_ ever do to you?’ 

‘They can't even fuck. I read 150 pages of that shitty, shitty book that says on the back of it—hold up, I've got the paperback around here somewhere.’ 

He starts to sit up and you almost pull him back but he relaxes back into your arms without you needing to. Good. You are not letting him ruin cuddle session prematurely. Your hold on him becomes slightly firmer.

‘It says bullshit like, “the most erotic thing ever”, right? And it's popular enough to make a movie out of! So, I pick it up, I start reading, the writing is pretty average but Louis is obviously the gayest vampire I've ever met—I know I didn't really meet him and I know you're lying right here, trust me on this, he's gayer—and he starts talking about how much he hates Lestat, so I'm thinking fuck yes, angry vampire sex, that's the best thing ever. But they can't even fuck! Because their hearts have stopped or some bullshit? Like that would only stop erections from happening but muscle movement would still be fine? And apparently Louis and Lestat aren't even gay? What is the point of vampires if they can't fuck?’

He puts his fingers on the pulse point on your neck performatively. You can’t help it, you laugh. Not much, because you don’t do that, but it’s genuinely amusing to listen to him get this worked up over a book.

‘I shouldn’t be surprised that your primary problem with this is their inability to get laid. There’s obviously no reason for vampires to exist if they can’t fuck. I would have offed myself immediately if I couldn’t fuck. Immortality isn’t worth it if you’re cursed with erectile dysfunction.’

Hal’s fingers feel strangely good on your neck and they’re just resting over your pulse point like he’s forgotten he put them there in the first place. You should kiss him. You’re not going to do that, because you have more self control than that. 

‘150 pages is nothing as far as shitty book encounters go. I read over 1,000 pages of Ayn Rand’s mediocre bullshit for a project in high school, and then the project was cancelled. You should read _Twilight_ if you haven’t already. Those vampires can fuck, fortunately for you, but I’m curious to see what you’ll take issue with as far as inaccuracies and characters go.’

You shift so that you have both arms around him. Probably a bold move, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

‘You know, it would be interesting to see what’s accurate and what isn’t in entertainment and myths in terms of vampires,’ you say. ‘We can go ahead and rule out the inability to fuck and sparkling in sunlight.’

‘I'm up for Vampire MythBusters. Quick question: do you think we've definitely established ability to fuck? I'd hate to have inconclusive results because we hadn't done thorough enough testing.’

That headache of yours isn’t getting any better, and you definitely aren’t doing yourself any favors as far as inhaling Hal’s scent goes. You aren’t going to feed on him though. You’re just going to ignore this issue until he leaves. Worst case scenario is that you have to pry yourself away from him, but hopefully it won’t come to that. You’re way too comfortable. 

You can’t explain why his hand feels so soothing and just _good_ on your neck, but it does. His fingers are laying right over your newest scar, and although him touching the bite really shouldn’t make you feel content, it does. You came to terms with the fact that you are fucked up and weird years ago. Trying to figure out _why_ is just a pain in the ass. 

‘Are you suggesting that we fuck for science because you woke up with a boner? I was just going to ignore it for your sake, you know.’

He looks down like it isn’t completely obvious. You’re not going to pretend it isn’t flattering.

‘You're the picture of tactful. We can definitely continue to ignore that, but as we're both here …’

You close your eyes while he strokes your neck. You wouldn’t mind having sex with him again, but you think you should aim for something quick. Or just something that doesn’t leave you wanting to cling to him in bed for hours on end. You’re already hating the idea of dragging yourself out of bed. You don’t need to worsen that when you’re planning on sneaking out. 

You move your hand up and down his side, keeping your movements slow. You would love to get accustomed to touching him on a regular basis, platonically and sexually. His skin is smooth and warm against your own, and all it does is make you want to cling to him. You think that you’ve become slightly more attracted to heat ever since you were turned. It has nothing to do with you wanting to touch him. Probably.

‘I’m the most tactful person I know. You’re pretty tactful yourself. I just happened to notice your hard on when it was up against my leg.’ His lips look so soft right now. You’re an idiot. ‘What are you in the mood for?’

‘I want to go down on you. Suck you off until you come for me and then rim you through your refractory period and fuck you. Thoughts?’

You hate it, but you don’t know how to resist him. You should know how to resist him. You’ve had sex a lot. You know how and when to say no to people, especially when you’ve got important shit to do. Hal is different, though. You don’t _want_ to tell him no. You want to do all of those things with him. Since when did you become so weak? 

You can handle leaving the apartment after all that. You’re not some useless thing after you get your brains fucked out. He looks so good right now, and he’s so close to you. He would look even better between your legs like he’s suggesting. Or while he’s fucking you. You think that he would look absolutely gorgeous while being fucked. You need to do that sometime, because you’re going to be fantasising about it for a while. It’s not like you haven’t before, either.

You need to answer him instead of just staring at him like a dumbass. 

‘I think anyone would be a fuckin’ idiot to say no,’ you murmur. 

You cup his cheek and kiss him.

Hal is a drug to you. Vampire venom always made you feel amazing and left you wanting more, but Hal is ten times more addictive. You can’t believe you even tried to keep yourself from kissing him. His lips are soft and irresistible, and his tongue against yours only makes you want to kiss him even deeper. You’re discovering that the more you do this with him, the more you hate being separated from him. Even being pressed directly against him isn’t enough. You want to be impossibly close to him. 

He’s being gentle and slow as he kisses down your neck, a stark contrast to your past experiences with him. You’re accustomed to things moving fast with him and, in most cases, the men you’ve hooked up with before, but this is _good_. It gives you more time to enjoy the moment, to savor the taste of his mouth and his skin touching yours. His dick against yours is intoxicating, but you manage to fight the urge to grind against him. 

You’re very keen on physical contact during sex. Being deprived of it and forced to beg turns you on too, which you made clear earlier, but you love touching your partners.

It’s so satisfying to run your hands over his body slowly enough that you can take in ever detail. Your fingers map out everything you can reach of him, particularly his hair, back, and nipples. You spend a while on his chest, rubbing circles into his nipples with your thumbs. 

Every kiss and nibble he gives you encourages you to lean into him. You’re making noises already, but they’re nothing compared to what you’ve done while you’ve been desperate for him. You want to do the same to him, to kiss at his neck and down his body.

This feels ... sweet, almost, and you love it. You think you love _him_. You need to stop thinking before you ruin this. 

‘I didn’t know you had a gentle side,’ you say.

‘Mmm,’ he hums. ‘Keeping you on your toes.’

You don’t know whether the fast pace of your combined desperation or the slow gentleness of this turns you on more. You’re leaning into every touch he gives you, hooked on feeling his skin and everything else he has to offer. His lips and teeth give you tingles where they touch you. 

It’s strangely comforting to be taking things slow, and you swear that you feel a swell of warmth around your heart because of it. You would love to flip your positions, to get him under you and work him to the point that he’s shaking. You want to glide your fingers over his body and and press your mouth to his neck, chest, and everywhere else. 

He keeps you on your toes all the time whether he means to or not. You want to kiss him and touch him at every opportunity you get, but you don’t know if you should. You don’t know what category you two fall under. You don’t know if he shares any of the feelings that have been budding inside of you since you started doing this with him. Or perhaps they were developing before all of this?

Seeing him move down your body is hot as hell, and you’re already working yourself up due to the anticipation. Everything he does has you wanting him more. You find that you love his teeth on you and think that maybe he should be the vampire in this situation, just because his bites feel electric no matter how light or rough they are.

You pet through his hair, letting yourself feel each lock and strand. If he keeps going down the way he is, you’re going to be very limited on how much you can touch him. You’re going to enjoy doing it while you can. 

You can’t help it. You gasp when he pinches your nipple, your fingers gripping his hair for a moment. 

‘I think you’re just trying to drive me up the wall here,’ you say, your voice affectionate despite your words.

He grins up at you and pinches your nipple again, not as hard this time. He’s such a little shit.

‘Is it working?’ he asks.

You don’t know why you find that endearing or enticing, but his smile and touches send a pulse through your dick. You don’t want to dignify his question with a response. You’re too prideful to admit that it _is_ working, that he possesses that kind of control over you. You bite your lower lip to keep your mouth shut. 

‘I like you like this,’ he says, kissing your nipple. 

You’re _really_ enjoying the attention to your nipples. You don’t get that very often with the quick fucks that you seek out. You don’t get a lot of the buildup that he’s giving you now, and he’s even given you more than your past partners when you were both high and desperate for each other. 

You want to grind your dick where it’s pressed against his stomach, but you also want to hold out until he finishes making his descent down your body. Forcing yourself to wait turns you on more anyway. 

‘You should be naked at all times.’

‘Don’t you—fuck,’ you groan as he licks you. It’s just a small, quick movement. His tongue on your nipple really shouldn’t be making you this way. You swallow and lick your lips before attempting to speak again. ‘Don’t you think that being naked all the time would have some disadvantages? As exciting as the nudist life sounds, I don’t think I can commit to it entirely.’ In theory, constantly forgoing clothes sounds incredibly hot. Hal also being naked at all times is even hotter. ‘Maybe I’d be more open to it if you did it with me.’

‘I think I'd end up starving to death if I had to leave this just to get food,’ he says. 

You expect him to banter with you. You figure that going on about the pros and cons of turning to the nudist life is good material for that, but he turns around and says something that has your cheeks flushing. God _fucking_ damn it, you are _not_ giving this up just to fall down the mental hole you’re creating because of what he said. You’re not going to let yourself overthink it. Not now. 

His teeth on your nipple are impossible to ignore and very distracting. You tip your head back with a groan. He knows exactly how to fuck you up in a good way. With how things are going, all you’ll be doing after this is taking a shower, and that’s if you’re lucky.

‘I think I prefer you alive rather than starving to death,’ you tell him. 

He keeps moving down your body, kissing down your ribs. He grabs your ass, which, if you’re being truthful, you were kind of hoping for after last time. It’s easier to focus on that than what he said. It probably meant nothing, and if it did, it was just rooted in sex, nothing more.

‘Can’t you take me to dinner before you go in for the groping?’ you tease.

‘I offered my neck first, dude,’ he says. ‘Oh damn, you think if you had me after this we'd get really fucking horny again and just marathon right through this? I bet I could get you off three times in an hour.’

You’re probably a little too pleased with having marks left on your body. There’s just something appealing about it, and having his mouth on your hip with the promise of the evidence being left behind is highly satisfactory. 

You moan despite your efforts to hold it back when he licks your dick. A shudder shoots up your spine, and you think you may have gotten a few goosebumps. He’s genuinely may be able to get you to come as many times as he claims. You shouldn’t be tempted to test it out.

‘Are you sure your dick can handle that? And don’t you have groceries to get? Or are you really going to starve yourself to death just for sex?’ 

You think you actually whine when he takes your dick into his mouth. It’s hard to tell when you feel as if you’ve been smacked in the face with pleasure. The sucking sensation has you moaning and spreading your legs wider, as if it’s going to get him any closer to you or your dick when he’s already _right there_. You can’t keep yourself from squirming when he pulls his mouth off of you and strokes instead. 

‘Shit, I was joking but it's actually going to happen,’ he says. He groans into your thigh and you shiver. ‘Fuck, Dirk, you're gorgeous. Gotta die somehow.’

Your face needs to cool it. You’ve been called plenty of flattering things by other men and your face hasn’t gotten nearly this red. 

‘You’re a dumbass,’ you say. It comes out breathless. ‘I’m not letting you die just because you’ve discovered that you’re a sex addict.’

Anything else you were planning to say is immediately forgotten when he takes you in his mouth again. You can’t keep yourself from moaning now. It’s too much, and it feels almost heavenly. 

‘Hal, holy fuck,’ you gasp. You’re struggling to think straight. ‘You feel so fucking good.’

You don’t want to move from this bed. You _definitely_ don’t want him to. Every plan you had before this is close to being scrapped, because the idea of just staying with him and doing this for the rest of the night is a lot more tempting. You can’t keep your mouth closed. Moans and swears pour out of you and you no longer have the ability to give a damn about silencing yourself. 

You thought that Hal’s mouth on you was intense enough, but then his fingers move from your thighs and between them. There is no way that you’ll come out of this with a functioning brain. He’s turning every part of you to liquid and you’re letting him. You try to keep your hips still, but you’re unable to prevent yourself from bucking up into his mouth involuntarily. 

Oh dear god, he’s fucking merciless. You reach down so that you can grip his hair in your fist in an effort to ground yourself. You need to touch him. It doesn’t work. 

‘Hal,’ you pant. You think you’ve said his name several more times than you can recall. ‘Hal, I can’t, fuck, I can’t hold back for long.’

He moans and if anything ups his intensity. His mouth is fucking divine. Everything he does with it has you that much closer to hitting your climax, and you once again find yourself wondering why you never did anything like this with him before you were turned. He’s fucking amazing during sex, and he’s gorgeous in every sense of the word. Even if you are tempted to hide your face, you don’t. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him. 

You have had some pretty mind blowing hookups in the past, but nothing compares to the sex you’ve had with him. You want to do this with him regularly. You want to ignore the world outside the apartment and devote yourself entirely to this. He’s worth it. 

‘Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,’ you groan. 

You try to hold back, if only to draw things out a little longer, but you’re no match for his mouth. When you come, your toes curl and you find yourself gripping the sheets in your free hand while your other one tightens its hold on his hair. He doesn't take his mouth off of you at any point. You’re trembling more than usual because of it, and you think you may have just whined.

You aren’t sure if this is heaven or hell. You can’t keep yourself from wanting his tongue on you. He keeps it teasing enough to keep you on the edge. If you’re feeling overstimulated now just because of his mouth and tongue, you’re going to be a total mess by the time that he’s done with you, and there’s no way in hell you’ll want to go anywhere. You should be more concerned, but you can’t bring yourself to be. You don’t want this to end. 

His teeth sinking into your ass force a moan out of you. He applies just enough pressure to keep it somewhere between gentle and on the verge of becoming painful, and you don’t know which one you want more. You love his teeth. He could bite you all over, leave you bruised and bloody or tease you until you break by just grazing his teeth over your skin, and you would love every moment of it. 

You try to look composed as he grins up at you. You highly doubt that you really do. 

‘Still cool with me rimming you then fucking you?’ he asks.

You nod.

‘If you’re up to it. Are you sure you can last long enough for that?’

‘Not even a bit sure,’ he says. ‘I promise if I get so into this that I come against the sheets like a fucking tool I'll still get you off again. I'd like to think I have a bit of self control left, but you're really messing with my cool here.’

It’s extremely satisfying to know that you have this effect on him. You would love to touch him, to see if just getting your hands on him could cause him to come against the sheets. You want to work him up beyond belief and see him struggle to keep from hitting his climax. 

You can’t say that you have much experience with your ass being nuzzled, but you are definitely not complaining about it. He can do whatever he wants to your ass. Hal has yet to do anything that you aren’t cool with. 

He bites you again and you think you could happily live out the rest of your days with him biting you. You hope that his teeth leave marks on your ass. A shaky breath slowly escapes you as his lips near your asshole. You lift your back and bite the inside of your cheek. 

‘Fuck, Hal. You really like teasing, don’t you?’

If you were more desperate, you would probably jolt when he drags that unfairly good tongue from your ass to your dick. You definitely don’t jolt. You might attempt to suppress one, sure, but you’re pretty sure that there’s no way Hal could have noticed. Or at least you hope that he didn’t notice. 

You don’t know how much more of this you can take. You’re going to end up coming before he gets tired of teasing you. 

‘Just being thorough,’ he says. ‘You like it.’

‘ _Shit_ ,’ you mouth at the ceiling as he squeezes your dick. He’s so unfairly efficient at doing everything he can to make you shake. Your breathing is already ragged and uneven. 

You nearly open your mouth to argue, but his stroking fingers cause you to bite your tongue and give any potential argument some thought. You don’t want him to stop by any means. He’s driving you crazy, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t like it. You want him to do this to you. You want him to ruin you and shred any control you still have. 

‘Think you can handle being thorough?’ you ask breathlessly.

He licks you again instead of answering. Each touch of his tongue sends a pulse of electricity through you. You want him so bad. This isn’t helping at all with the ache in your mouth, and you’re finding that the urge to bite him is becoming harder to ignore. 

He sucks at your rim, causing you to arch your back and grip the bedsheets hard enough that it hurts. He’s completely and utterly amazing, and you’ve decided that his mouth is absolutely heavenly. You’ve lost all hope of holding back any of your noises, you’re still buzzing with overstimulation and he’s driving you closer and closer to coming a second time.

You groan his name out as his fingers dig into your ass. You want to pull him back up to your level so badly. You want him to fuck you as hard as he can and despite your plans, you can’t stop thinking about sinking your fangs into his neck while he does it.

You need to start seeking out guys who like fucking around with asses more often. Or you just need to get Hal to do this more often. You’re convinced that this is what pure Heaven feels like. There’s no way that there is anything better out there. You can’t think of anything that would feel better than his tongue working its way inside of you, his fingers spreading you open and giving your rim more of their attention. 

But then his tongue is gone, leaving you feeling empty until he replaces it with his fingers. Once you’ve gotten over the initial burn, you can’t keep yourself from pushing down on his fingers, doing everything in your power to take them deeper. He feels completely and utterly amazing. He’s driving you insane and giving you everything you want at the same time. 

‘Fuck you're sexy,’ he says. 

You’re moaning like a whore when he gets his mouth on your dick, and you don’t have the restraint to keep your hips still. You grab a fistful of his hair tightly, though not as tightly as the sheets you’re going to have to replace. 

‘God fucking damn it, Hal,’ you moan. ‘You’re too good, holy shit.’

You’re convinced that there is no way that Hal is anything other than a godsend. You like to think that you’ve experienced good, bad, and totally mind blowing sex, but what he’s doing to you is making you rethink all of that and categorize it under the “subpar” label. 

His mouth is fucking perfect on your cock, and those fingers of his feel absolutely heavenly as they thrust in and out of you, stretching your asshole with each movement. You think you very well may die from this, because there’s no way that something this good can be survivable. That, or you’re going to come again. 

You can’t stay still. Your free hand is grabbing at everything it can reach, while you fight to keep your other one from holding Hal’s hair too tightly. You’re squirming despite any efforts you make to avoid doing so, which you give up on after a few failed attempts. It’s so tempting to thrust up into Hal’s mouth with no restraint whatsoever, to turn each twitch of your hips into something far more rough, but you still have enough restraint to keep yourself under control, save for the occasional upward jerk of your hips. 

There is no way you can keep going like this. You are going to come soon, and you would much rather attempt to hold back and wait for the next phase of Hal’s plan before you do that.

‘Hal,’ you groan. ‘Fuck me. Fuck me, _please_.’

He withdraws and bites you on the thigh.

‘Lube,’ he says. The state of his voice sends a shudder through you. He sounds so hot like this, his breathing rough and gasping. You want to do everything in your power to make that worse for him. You want him so desperate that he can’t even think about correcting himself. He bites you a second time and you moan, pressing yourself against the teeth digging into your skin. 

‘I need lube,’ he says, his voice only slightly less husky. 

He crawls up so that he’s holding himself above you. He kisses you on the forehead before reaching behind you, which gives you a warm thrill, and you wrap your arms around him like you’ve been dying to do now that he’s within reach again. The tenderness of the gesture makes many thoughts boil to the surface, but you shove them back with your other anxieties. You can’t ruin this now. 

You run your hands over his skin, eager to feel every part of him under your palms. You press kisses to his neck while he works on retrieving the lube, followed by nips and more. Being this close to his neck is really fucking with your head, and you swear that your fangs are practically throbbing with the urge to bite him. 

‘Condom yay or nay?’ he asks. You raise an eyebrow

‘Seems a bit pointless by now, don’t you think?’

He starts to prep himself and you move onto your elbows so you can keep kissing his neck. You’re probably overdoing it, but his skin tastes so good and something about marking him up is incredibly satisfactory, as is knowing that those marks are from you. You don’t want anyone else doing this to him. You don’t want anyone else experiencing this with him. You want to keep him with you for eternity. Perhaps it’s a little fucked up to think like that, but you aren’t exactly equipped to smother those thoughts at the moment. 

‘Fucking hell, you're hot,’ he says as he lines his dick up with you.

You want to follow him when he moves, to keep your mouth on his neck like a damn leech, but you convince yourself to stay back. You roll your hips impatiently when his gaze meets yours. You want his dick inside of you as soon as possible. 

The initial stretch burns, but you’ve done anal before. You have discovered methods of ignoring the sting until it fades. You run your fingers through his hair as he bends back down to kiss along your collarbone. God, his mouth and his dick are absolutely fucking divine. You groan, draping your free arm over him while your other one pulls at his hair.

Each thrust loosens you up just the slightest bit more, and soon you’ve completely forgotten about the stretch. You press down on him, wanting his dick as deep as it can go. You’ve had sex with plenty of guys, but for some reason, it’s never been as good as this. It only seems to feel _better_ each time you and Hal fuck, too. You think that you might die if the intensity of it goes up in the future. As fucked up as it may be, you’d be okay with that. 

He shifts so he can look you in the eye. For once, you’re thankful that your face is already red, because making eye contact with him makes the heat in your cheeks ten times harder to ignore. It’s dumb, but looking him in the eyes while he fucks you feels more intimate than his dick being in your ass. It sends a fluttery feeling from your stomach to your chest that you are far from okay with. 

It doesn’t last long though, he starts kissing you before you can die of emotions. You’re quick to kiss him back. You can never get enough of the feeling of his lips against yours, and it’s easier to forget your emotional bullshit when you’re shoving your tongue into his mouth. You roll your hips in time with his and dig your nails into his back, desperate for something to keep you grounded. 

He groans into your mouth and fucks you harder. You’re overstimulated as hell, and you doubt you’ll last long like this. Your breathing is becoming shakier by the moment, and you aren’t getting any less worked up.

You miss the feeling of his lips on yours immediately when he pulls back. You think you would gladly let yourself suffocate just to keep kissing him. His tongue and lips are addictive, and they fit perfectly against your own. You’re gasping and panting, clutching him tightly as you catch your breath. Breathing is for losers, you decide, but you don’t kiss him again. As much as you love it, you don’t want to fuck him over here. Instead, you settle for peppering kisses on the parts of him you can reach, pausing long enough every now and again to nip him or bruise his skin. 

You swear that you might just cry when his hand touches your cock. The stimulation is killing you, and it doesn’t help that every part of your body feels impossibly sensitive when he touches you. Under normal circumstances, you would probably hate him for doing this to you, for making you this vulnerable and weak, but things haven’t been normal for a while. You curse between moans, your hands clutching him much more tightly. 

Shoving your face against his neck does nothing to remedy your aching stomach. You want to bite him. You want to see just how much harder he fucks you with venom running through his system, and you want to taste him on your tongue. But you don’t want to feed on him. You’re still scared of hurting him, and you don’t know if you could stop while you’re like this. You don’t know for sure if he would make you stop either, because he’s just as turned on as you. 

A fucking whine leaves you as you shift, pressing your face against his shoulder so that you can kiss him there and hopefully ease that dull ache within you. You’re throbbing and you’re wet as hell, and you can tell from the way that you’re shaking that you’re close.

‘Nngh,’ he moans. ‘Fuck, Dirk. Want you to bite me, even just a bit, fuck.’

The idea of sinking your teeth into him and drinking him dry really shouldn’t be turning you on, but as fucked up as it is, you can’t deny it. Fortunately for you, you can blame it entirely on vampirism. Every buck of his hips feels irresistibly good, everything about this feels good, but you know it would be ten times better if you bit him. Hal’s blood is like a drug to you, and you know that it feels good for him too. God, you want to see how he reacts to being bitten while he’s like this. Something gives you the impression that he would moan a lot more than he is now, which is really saying something. 

You’re pressing your face against his shoulder somewhat roughly now. It feels like you’re going to fall apart at any moment if you don’t give in, and being this close to him means that all you’re smelling is him and it’s driving you fucking insane. 

You try to be logical about this. If anyone can control their bloodlust, it’s you. You’re all about self control. If you leave the apartment after this, you’re going to be starving and desperate, and you can’t say for sure that your self control will keep you from attacking the first person you see. If you could just take a little bit from Hal …

He wants you to do it. You want to do it. Is there really any point in denying yourself a little taste? You think you’re at risk of drooling over him, and you would rather avoid that. You grip him tightly before returning to his neck and sinking your fangs into him with a shudder and a moan.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he groans

You think that biting him while he’s fucking you is possibly the greatest thing you’ve ever done. The taste of his blood on your tongue is, as always, absolutely amazing, and you’re feeling a lot closer to climax than before, which is really saying something. Each drop of blood in your mouth sends shockwaves of pleasure rolling through you, and you think that you may just fall apart once this is over with. 

He’s fucking you a lot faster now, not to mention deeper and harder. Coupled with the effect that his blood is having on you, it’s complete euphoria. You groan against his neck and choose to occupy one of your hands with one of his nipples, pinching and rolling the bud of it between your fingers. You simultaneously want to chase your oncoming orgasm and prolong this as long as possible. 

You can’t keep drinking from him. You need to stop and you know it, but it’s so difficult to pry yourself away from his neck. His blood is turning your brain to jelly in the best way, and the way he’s fucking you doesn’t encourage you to stop. There’s a scalding hot sensation threatening to spill over in your abdomen, and it only gets worse with every jerk of Hal’s hips. You’re so overstimulated that your skin feels like it’s on fire. You’re just thankful that the noises pouring out of you are muffled against his neck. 

You can’t fight it any longer. You pull your mouth away from his neck, tip your head back, and come _hard_ with his name on your lips. You think you’re seeing stars. You clutch him tightly, your nails pressing hard enough against his skin to cause pain.

You can’t quite pinpoint the moment when you finally come done from your orgasm. You’re convinced that you blacked out somewhere along the way as woke up with Hal laying on top of you. Hell, it takes you a few moments to even register that he’s there, but the weight of his body on you and the warmth of it help you figure it out. God, he’s warm. You’re totally fucking out of it, but you’re really zoned in on that fact. 

Your limbs may feel like putty right now and you may be shaking pretty badly, but you’re not going to let anything get in the way of cuddling him. You curl your arms around him, holding him against you as if he wasn’t already there. He kisses you on the cheek and it sends little thrills straight to your stupid heart. You can’t hide the lazy smile that claims your mouth when he kisses you on the lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex stuff starts at "‘What are you in the mood for?’" and ends at "You can’t quite pinpoint the moment".


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk takes matters into his own hands. He can't tolerate the danger to Hal by drinking his blood anymore, and it hurts too much to try and keep this casual. Time to find someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: As has already been established, Dirk isn't the picture of mental health. That gets worse when he's stressed or unwell.

‘That was so fucking good,’ Hal mumbles. 

‘Mhm,’ you reply, giving yourself a few seconds to figure out how to string words together again. ‘I think you’ve officially fucked me up. There’s no going back. I’m never going to be able to move again and it’s your fault.’

You aren’t certain if you love having sex with Hal or the aftermath more. Having him this close to you is satisfying as hell, and you’re more than happy to blame this entirely on the fact that you’re a clingy, cuddly motherfucker instead of looking for other reasons for it. (There’s definitely other reasons, but you’re not willing to face them.)

‘I think I can work with that,’ he says. ‘Puppet you around _Weekend At Bernie's_ style when I absolutely need to but otherwise you can just live in my bed, fuck my brains out and be my pillow at night.’

You’re still hungry, but drinking that small amount of blood has made it easier to ignore. For now, at least. You laugh at his response. Just a little, of course, because you’re Dirk Strider and you keep that shit on lockdown. The fact that you’re slipping now has absolutely nothing to do with Hal turning your brain to liquid with his dick. 

‘So I’m essentially going to be your sentient sex doll and mattress? Something about that seems a little immoral.’

You’re able to register the feeling of his hand on your arm as very, very good, but then his fingers are laced with yours and you suddenly don’t give a shit about that anymore. You squeeze his hand, savoring the feeling of his palm against yours.

‘Can't be immoral when you're this cute,’ Hal says, snuggling into your chest. You like having the weight of his head on your shoulder like this, and he’s close enough to kiss your neck. You really hope he does. ‘It's a compliment if you squint. My bed used to be a very exclusive club before you flashed the bouncer.’

You feel your cheeks flush and you hope that he’s just as tired as you are and doesn’t notice it. 

‘I’m not cute,’ you inform him with a frown. ‘Hey, I didn’t say I was against it. Do you know how much less stress I’d have to deal with if I lived in your bed?’

You move your free hand just enough to be able to run your fingers through his hair. You love touching him and being close to him, you’ve decided, and you’re incredibly unwilling to give this up. You have shit to do though, so you can’t just stay like this forever, and he can’t either. You should probably let up on cuddling him in case he ends up wanting to stay. As much as you’d love him to, you barely took anything from him, and you don’t have long before your hunger begins to drive you up the wall again. 

He’s so warm. He smells nice, too. The you of last week would never in a million years picture getting this close and comfortable with how, but that version of you doesn’t know what he’s missing. That version of you probably wouldn’t imagine that catching feelings for Hal would be possible either, but you’re proving that wrong every step of the way.

‘I'm sure I'd give you shit to stress about,’ he says. ‘Not gonna quit bothering you just 'cause you absolutely are cute. How is that a thing you can even fight, we have mirrors, you know what you look like. Oh hey, can you still see your reflection? Because next time when you're hungry you should check your fangs out before you come to me, they're pretty cool.’

You roll your eyes.

‘I never said you wouldn’t give me shit to stress about. I just wouldn’t have to worry about most of the shit not caused by you. Thanks for ensuring that my anxiety doesn’t get a break though. I obviously need to be mentally fucked at all times to be a functional person.’ You shake your head. ‘And I’m _not_ cute. I can fight it because it isn’t true. And I’m pretty sure I can still see my reflection. That myth is supposed to be exclusive to older mirrors because of what they were made with, I think.’

You’ve admittedly been more interested in avoiding mirrors lately rather than checking yourself out. You’re hesitant to see how you’ve changed. You close your eyes as his fingers run over your neck. You think he could punch you and you would find yourself thinking about his touch rather than the lingering pain.

Relief floods you as he kisses your neck. You’d love to shift so that you can catch one of those kisses with your lips. When he licks you, goosebumps appear on your skin and you can’t help but shudder. His tongue is too good.

‘Weren’t you planning on heading out tonight?’ you ask.

‘Mmm, we've run out of pretty much everything.’

So he’ll likely be stuck at the store for a while. That shouldn’t be a relief—especially since your emotions don’t want him leaving in the first place—but it will hopefully give you enough time to do what you have to. Maybe when he gets back you two can go back to your cuddling session. Unless he thinks it’s weird to cuddle you without having sex first. Shit, he probably does. 

You’re tempted to pull him back down when he pushes himself up. You don’t want this to end, but it has to eventually. That shouldn’t make your heart ache. You’re being a fucking idiot. Hal doesn’t even know how you feel and you’re already being a clingy piece of shit. You can’t keep doing this with him. Your last relationship didn’t have the best ending, and you’re fully convinced it was your fault. You’re better off fucking strangers. You can’t get attached if your partner changes every night. You doubt he feels the same anyway.

‘Gonna shower,’ he says. ‘Actually, gonna do this real quick, then shower.’

He lies back down where he was and kisses you. You immediately forget about distancing yourself from him and kiss him back. You’re weak, but his lips fit against yours so nicely. 

‘Yeah, you really do need to shower,’ you mumble against his lips teasingly. ‘You’re gross.’

You suddenly have a mouthful of tongue in a very gross way. You’d take him biting your lip over that any day, which he does as well. You swat him on the arm in retaliation and make a mock gagging sound.

‘I didn’t want to have to bleach my mouth tonight,’ you say. 

He grins shamelessly and climbs out of bed. You sit up as well. You should probably go to your room instead of hanging around naked in his bed. You should also get dressed, even if you’ll have to change into something more presentable once he leaves. You’ll need to fix your hair too. You can’t believe you’ve gone this long without having it styled. You can’t believe he’s not mocked you for it yet either. 

‘If I invite you to my shower am I going to be allowed to leave it after a normal human amount of time or are your marathon sessions contagious?’ Hal asks.

You raise your eyebrows. You wouldn’t mind that, actually. You shrug.

‘I don’t know. I’m up for finding out if you are, though. Long showers are hardly a bad thing anyway; I think you’d like them.’

You follow Hal into the bathroom, deciding you can get your clothes from his floor another time. You aren’t sure how you should interpret showering with him. You want to brush it off as nothing like everything else, but you also want to read into it until you give yourself a headache. 

You choose to focus on getting the water temperature the way you like it, making it a little cooler than usual in case Hal doesn’t appreciate scalding hot showers. 

‘Toothpaste,’ Hal says, while his mouth is full of the stuff. It takes you a second to figure out that he means you’re running out. ‘Did you say you needed shit too?’

You chew on your lip for a moment at his question.

‘Garlic,’ you say, for lack of anything better. ‘I wasn’t joking about playing _MythBusters_ with this. I’ll write you a list of shit before you go.’

You step into the shower, only to freeze up when his hand makes contact with your ass. You are _not_ acknowledging the yelp that leaves you. Then he follows you into the shower like he didn’t do shit.

‘Do you just go around slapping people’s asses for the hell of it? Is that one of your fuckin’ hobbies or something? Or is it just exclusive to those unfortunate enough to live with you.’

You don’t know what you expected from showering with him. Imagining that the two of you would strictly stick to business is purely ridiculous, and you can’t complain when he moves closer to you. You run your hand up his side before you move it to his back. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of touching him. 

‘I have never slapped the ass of someone I've lived with. Congratulations on the achievement. I'll make you a plaque.’

‘Great,’ you say as sarcastically as possible. ‘If you get me a plaque I might actually kill you. With the plaque. The crime scene will be horrible.’

‘I always knew you had a choice ass, there's literally no point pretending otherwise at this point, but damn, it's a different thing naked. I'm infatuated. I'm gonna get flowers when I'm out. Not for you, for your ass.’

You frown, hoping that your cheeks aren’t too terribly flushed as he talks about your ass. You give him a light shove. You don’t actually want him to stop touching you, is the problem. 

‘I will find a way to stick those flowers up your ass and move out if you do that. If your obsession with my ass goes that far, I really don’t think I could handle it. You need therapy, man. It’s just an ass. You can’t fall in love with an ass.’

You move your hand up his back until you can run your fingers through his hair. You like touching his hair more than you should, you think. He kisses you on the shoulder and you close your eyes, holding him a bit closer.

You’re guessing that this shower experience is going to involve a lot of ass fondling, or at least a lot of talk about your ass. It’s not really what you were hoping for, but you probably shouldn’t have been expecting pure cuddly bullshit once you stepped into the shower with him. This is Hal. Fucking with you is practically in his genes. 

He proves you right by letting his hands travel down your back until they reach your ass and squeezing. Look, you like getting your ass played with and Hal is frankly fantastic at it, but it’s hard not to rise to obvious baiting.

‘If I write love poetry to your ass, will you give us some privacy?’ he says. ‘I like you fine, you keep playing with my hair and I might call us friends one day, seriously dude, that's really nice, but it's not on the same level as what I feel for your ass.’

You roll your eyes as you shift enough to grab the shampoo. His hair is wet enough from the spray for you to get a good lather going, so you do exactly that. It’s a great excuse to keep touching his hair too. 

‘Why don’t I just off myself and you can have all the privacy you want with my ass,’ you ask. He makes a little groan as you start massaging his scalp, and you can’t find it in you to put any venom into your words. ‘It might be connected to a corpse, sure, but I’m essentially dead already. You’d get all the time you wanted with it without me interrupting the two of you.’

You smirk a little. You’ll have to keep in mind that he’s particularly vulnerable when it comes to having his hair washed. You knew before that he seemed to like it when you paid attention to his hair, but you didn’t anticipate being able to get him this comfortable with only your fingers and some shampoo.

‘Mmm but you walk around now, I get to see it in action. Also, your ass might be my one true love but let's not be too hasty to corpsify the rest of you. Your fingers are quickly earning living privileges, holy shit.’

You stop smirking and frown at him instead, even though his eyes are closed.

‘Have you just been keeping me around for the sole purpose of staring at my ass?’ You tug at a lock of his hair as a way of punishing him. ‘I’ll have to let you know now that my ass isn’t up for polygamy. Sorry bro, but it’s my ass or my fingers.’

You aren’t evil, so you begin wiping the shampoo off of his face in case he opens his eyes. You push him a little, guiding him back so that you can get his head close enough to the spray of water for you to begin rinsing his hair.

‘I'm telling you, I looked at your ass before because I have fuckin' eyes, I knew it was good, I just hadn't realised how good. So, fingers versus ass, your ass wins, just, though feel free to prove me wrong later. But if your fingers are up for poly and I can have them and your dick, suddenly the scales are tipping the other way. You have a top notch dick, Dirk, it's frankly a shame that you're always keeping it covered up.’

Something almost feels therapeutic about rinsing the shampoo out of Hal’s hair. You’re grateful for the fact that he didn’t stop you from doing this. You’re enjoying how his hair feels between your fingers, and you think you would be content if you could continue doing this forever. Minus the conversation about your ass, that is. You think your nerves would kill you before you had to deal with an eternity of that. 

‘You know that this is just getting stupider by the second, right? Every word you say about my ass and your undying adoration for it is just a waste of oxygen. It’s sad. You can fantasize all you want about the nudist life, but I don’t have any interest in it. My dick will have to remain covered up, or otherwise I’ll be charged with indecent exposure. I’d rather prevent that from showing up in my criminal record.’

You’ve gotten all of the shampoo out of his hair, but you don’t want to move away just yet. 

‘I’m beginning to think that you’ve got the hots for every part of my body except my actual self. I can’t say I blame you there, but are you sure you don’t want to go the corpse route? It just seems so much more convenient.’

Hal makes an awkward noise, something like, ‘Nngh.’ You might be mistaken, but you think his cheeks are flushed. Holy shit, have you actually successfully embarrassed him? You didn’t think that was even possible. You were thoroughly convinced that Hal just wasn’t receptive to that kind of shit, but this is a pleasant surprise that you intend on enjoying as much as you can. 

‘No, I wasn't …’ he starts. ‘I was making you uncomfortable, you're not supposed to turn the tables. You're supposed to get huffy with me and then I win.’ 

You drop your hands from his head when you feel it tilting forward a bit too much, only to have it on your shoulder a moment later. God, you’re beginning to think that there is no way that Hal didn’t participate in drama during high school. You don’t care if he was just one of the tech kids; he’s dramatic as hell. 

You wrap one arm around him, grinning. 

‘Oh, I’m sorry, do you really think you’re going to win every little antagonistic conversation with me? You know I’m not going to make it that easy for you every time you pull your shit, right?’

‘Whatever, pass me the shampoo,’ he grumbles.

You laugh quietly at his tone of voice, rubbing circles into his back. 

‘Come on, defeat isn’t that bad.’

You grab your own shampoo and hold it out for him to take. You’ve accidentally used Hal’s in the past, and you weren’t particularly pleased about it. Of course, you’re a bit ridiculously meticulous when it comes to your hair. You only like certain brands and products in your hair, and Hal’s shampoo isn’t one of them. 

He kisses you on the neck before he straightens up and you lean into it. You don’t think you could ever get tired of his lips. You close your eyes when he moves you to keep the water from getting in them.

‘I've never washed someone's hair before,’ he says.

‘You’re not going to accidentally scalp me, are you?’

‘I have to assume that it isn't that different to doing it alone. But then, that's how I approached my virginity and that did not go well.’

You can’t help but laugh when he tells you that. 

‘Why? What happened?’ For some reason, you’ve never really considered that there was a time when Hal was a virgin. You know that he had to have been at some point, sure, but it’s never crossed your mind. 

Letting Hal wash your hair isn’t bad. It’s not great, of course, but you blame that purely on the possibility that he’s making a bigger deal out of this than he should. It’s easy to lean into his touch, to relax under the slight pressure against your scalp. 

You think you two need to do this more often. His fingers in your hair make you want to drift off to sleep, and you’re certain that he enjoyed it when you did this for him. You’re going to do it again if he lets you. You hope he does. 

‘Okay, storytime. I have had exactly one boyfriend and he's the dude who has the dubious honour of owning my virginity. One day, my family's out for the whole day so I invite him over, we think we're going to do this in style, day-long fuckfest, we're ready. Except I didn't realise that hot dude jerking me off would be roughly a billion times better than doing it solo and he got like two strokes in before the fuckfest was cut very short. He literally almost left but my ass is hard to resist so we got there.’

He strokes down your arm and pulls you back into the water like you’re a shy horse or something. You lift your hands to wipe at your face and eyes. You don’t want shampoo getting in your eyes and you are not taking that risk. You run a hand through your hair to help him get the shampoo out before you open your eyes.

‘Dude, you had me under the impression that your first time was an absolute catastrophe. That wasn’t shit in terms of bad sex experiences. A little embarrassing on your end, sure, but not terrible. I’ve had worse. Do you always exaggerate everything?’

‘Two strokes, Dirk. We stripped down naked, because we were idiot teens, he touched me twice and we had blastoff and he was only packing a semi. The definition of premature. I'm convinced this was a factor in him dumping me.’

‘Do you think you can wash your body on your own?’ you ask.

‘Nope,’ Hal says. You kind of love that cheeky grin of his. ‘Okay, yes, but do it for me anyway.’

You’re about to reach for the soap when he takes it for himself. You huff and fold your arms over your chest, glaring at him while he gets the bar lathered up between his hands. You’re not pissed by any means, but you want him to know that this has mildly inconvenienced you and that he’s a prick. A cute one, but still. 

‘I’d say two strokes is about the limit for a teenage virgin anyway. You seem to be forgetting that both teenagers and virgins tend to be really fuckin’ easy the first time around. Did you think that your superiority complex would really make you last longer than that? Besides, your ex is an asshole if that’s one of the reasons he dumped you.’

Having your body washed by another guy is nice. Having your body washed by Hal, for whatever inane reason, is a million times better. You want to say something sarcastic when he hugs you, as if that’s a necessary part of the washing process, but you can’t bring yourself to. 

You don’t want to ruin this, and you’re afraid that you’ll accidentally say something affectionate instead during the attempt. Him squeezing your ass dilutes some of the fluffy bullshit clouding your brain, but you really should have been expecting it. 

‘Maybe you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Like you said, you were idiot teens. Just saying.’

You get the rest of yourself cleaned once he hands you the soap, and then you focus on rinsing yourself off. Once you’re done with that, you’re more than happy to begin spreading suds over Hal’s arms and chest.

You like how smooth he feels with water and soap on his skin. You want to keep touching him, and not even in a sexual way. You want to run your hands all over him, you want to hug him close like he did you, and you want to cuddle the absolute hell out of him. You shouldn’t be feeling this way. You’re a fucking idiot to allow yourself to entertain this idea, and so is your heart. Almost all of your crushes passed in time. So will this, provided that you let it. 

‘I'm being over-dramatic,’ he says. Which yeah, duh, but you also aren’t a stranger to over-analysing shit like this. ‘I'm definitely over it. Though, I haven't had a boyfriend since. But both that and the break-up in question have more to do with me being a terrible boyfriend. I mean, you can imagine, you live with me.’

You want to say something incredibly stupid, like _I can be your boyfriend._ Thank fucking god that you know how to keep your mouth shut.

‘I can’t really imagine,’ you inform him. ‘I don’t know jack shit about what you’re like when you’re in a relationship with someone. I’ve only ever seen the douchey roommate side of your personality. Unless that’s how you are in relationships too.’ You bite your lip. ‘Maybe you’re just... an acquired taste. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you aren’t exactly like other people.’

You want to kiss him, but that’s a stupid thought and you push it away. You wash his neck before moving your hands to his back, having to stand closer to him in order to reach it. Hugging him would have been easier, you decide.

‘You flatterer,’ he teases, taking the soap from you. ‘That's going on the dating profile.’

You can’t help it, you’re actually disappointed when he takes the soap from you. You were actually enjoying that, weirdly enough. There’s no reason for you to enjoy rubbing soap all over your roommate’s body. Except that his skin feels nice and he’s warm when you touch him, and you can’t seem to shake this urge to be close to him. That’s all bullshit though, of course. 

You know he’s joking about the dating profile thing. The majority of what comes out of Hal’s mouth is bullshit, but thinking about him doing this with anyone else hurts. It shouldn’t hurt. You’re just roommates who have sex every now and again and shower together, nothing more. You’re being an idiot. 

You’re done as far as showery activities go. You don’t feel like sticking to your normal routine now anyway. While Hal is getting himself cleaned off, you step out of the shower and grab a towel to dry yourself with.

‘I’m going to write up that list now.’

‘Hey, wait,’ he says. You stop and look back at him. You don’t understand why, but you hope that he wants you to stay, or he’s going to kiss you, or _something._ ‘Let me see my love before you go.’ 

It doesn’t take long for you to figure out that he’s asking to see your ass. What else would he be wanting to see?

You frown and flip him off before leaving the bathroom without fulfilling his request. You’re currently a mix of mildly pissed and disappointed, and you aren’t happy with that. You would rather not look the implications of your emotions in the eye. You'll gladly just settle on feeling moody instead of looking deeper.

You head to your room and pull on a black tank and a fresh pair of sweats. You dry your hair a little more thoroughly before going to Hal’s room and picking up the discarded clothes, which you dispose of along with the towel in the laundry. You grab a sticky note and pen in the kitchen and start writing down whatever you can think of to keep Hal busy.

You’re a fucking idiot when it comes to feelings. You’ve always been aware of this, but it sucks when you’re suddenly reminded of it. You always fall for people too quickly. You’re a fucking fool. You should know more than anyone that having sex with someone doesn’t make you shit, and neither does doing anything else with them. It doesn’t matter how warm and fuzzy some of the things you do with Hal make you feel. They mean nothing in the end, and you can’t change that. 

You’re roommates. That’s how it always was and that’s how it’s always going to be. You shouldn’t be wasting time on what your heart thinks it wants. It’s easier to avoid all of that anyway. It’ll be easier to forget everything once he leaves. You can drown yourself in some other dude’s blood and maybe get laid as well, and you can just forget this. It’s for the best. 

Hal walks into the kitchen too and opens the fridge door, clearly taking stock. You finish your list and get up. You stick it to the fridge door so that Hal can see it once he closes it. 

‘I’ll pay you back for that and the curtains when I can get to an ATM,’ you inform him. Your voice might be a little more monotone than usual, but you doubt he’ll notice. If he does, he won’t say anything. You avoid looking back at him as you walk to your room.

You decide that men fucking suck and it’s a goddamn shame that your attraction is restricted to them. You’ve reached this conclusion before, though the time you believed it most was when you had just broken up with Jake. Which you blame yourself for more than anything, but it was still a valid outlook back then. 

You need to get back to fucking a new stranger every night, and you need to avoid letting what you have with Hal turn into a routine. You can’t keep having sex with him if you can’t control your emotions. You’re not going to let yourself do it again. That’s partly why you should start feeding on strangers instead of him. It’s dangerous for him and you don’t want to risk killing him, and you know that you’ll likely have sex with him again if you do it. 

It’s time to stop. You’ve had your fun. That’s all it was. You sit in your room and listen for the sound of him leaving. When he finally does, you wait a few minutes before you change your clothes to something you can actually be seen in public in. If you show up at a vampire joint with pajamas on, no one is going to do anything with you. That would render all of this pointless.

Once you’ve got your shoes on, you go to the bathroom because you’ll be damned if you go out in public without your hair styled. It should give Hal a little more time to get ahead too. The last thing you want is to accidentally bump into him. 

You finish with your hair and grab your phone and a couple of condoms before leaving the apartment. You’re not interested in finding out if vampires are capable of catching HIV or syphilis. 

You don’t take your usual route. Something tells you that that’s likely the way Hal has gone. You stick to the sidewalks and try to ignore the way your stomach is aching. Passing other people by is horrible because you can’t shake the urge to grab them and drain them on the spot. By the time you get to the club, you have to curl your hands into fists to control your trembling, and even that doesn’t fully work. 

There’s ... a lot of people. Too many people. You need to get this over with as soon as possible. It’s easy to find a guy looking to get high. It’s easy to pull him to the restroom and lock the door. It’s even easier to let yourself be pinned against the wall and to tilt your head to the side so he can leave as many hickeys on you as he wants. He starts grinding against you and you can’t shake the feeling that something about this is wrong. You feel guilty and you don’t know why. You’re allowed to do this. 

You kiss up the length of his neck. Something about him smells ... off, but you can’t quite figure out what. It doesn’t matter. Your fangs are already out and you’re worried you’ll kill someone if you don’t do this now. 

‘Can I ...?’ you ask. 

‘Please.’

You sink your fangs into him and he groans. It’s not like when you feed off of Hal. It’s still a rush to you, but his blood doesn’t taste nearly as good as Hal’s. It actually tastes bitter, and it’s so overwhelming that you feel your stomach clench. You feel like you’re downing a bottle of cough syrup, but you keep going anyway because you have to. 

He’s grinding against you roughly, and you think for a moment that you’re glad you aren’t going to have to use the condoms you brought. You don’t feel guilty, you _don’t_ , or it doesn’t matter anyway, but you’re fucking tired and just not in the mood.

He comes. You can’t bear to swallow another ounce of his blood. You pull away and wipe your mouth off and he leaves you panting against the wall. You feel ... weird. You need to head home. 

The walk back to the apartment isn’t pleasant. That weird feeling only gets worse. Your skin has been cold ever since you turned, but now it’s feverishly hot to the touch and, somehow, even paler than before. You feel dizzy, and it becomes increasingly difficult to walk straight as you get closer to your home. You feel drunk and sick at the same time and it’s the complete opposite of enjoyable. You have to stop a few times and lean against something to keep yourself from collapsing. Your stomach is churning.

You get to the apartment and you can’t tell if you’re alone or not. You can’t remember how long you were gone and you have no idea how much time the walk back took. You don’t care. You head to the bathroom immediately and get on your knees in front of the toilet. 

When you vomit, you have to taste that guy’s blood all over again and you want to die.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal takes care of Dirk. It's impossible for them to keep their feelings hidden.

You feel absolutely horrible. It’s like your stomach is attempting to turn itself inside out and you are hating every moment of it. Your head is pounding and that feverish feeling isn’t going away.

Even better is the fact that apparently Hal got home before you. You’re confused by that for a moment because you were certain you’d get back before him, but you can barely remember walking home. You don’t know how long you’ve been gone. 

The bathroom suddenly full of his scent. You hate this body. You hate it even more when you throw up again. 

There’s no way he didn’t notice that you were gone. You’re surprised that he isn’t yelling at you right now for sneaking out. You’re even more surprised by the fact that he’s not asking if you killed someone. You may not be completely covered in blood like last time, but it’s a valid concern. 

You’re still trembling, and it only seems to be getting worse. You feel like you’re starving and you wish you could be pissed off that this is happening, but you mostly just feel exhausted. You hate everything right now. 

‘Hey,’ Hal says, his voice strangely soft. ‘Want your hair holding?’

You manage to glare at Hal, leaning onto your right arm that’s braced against the toilet. There’s no point in denying it; you _are_ irrationally pissy with him because of earlier, and you have no reason to be. He hasn’t done anything wrong. You’re just an idiot who jumps at the first sign of affection from another guy. All he did earlier was act how he usually does around you. Your dynamic before you turned was pure antagonism and sarcasm. You were stupid to think that would ever change just because you slept with him. 

Your gaze softens after a moment. Judging by the tone of his voice, you don’t think he’s trying to fuck with you. You press a hand to your forehead and brush your hair out of your face. 

‘No,’ you mutter. Your voice sounds like you’ve been gargling gravel. ‘You can drive a stake into my chest if you’re up for it though. This fuckin’ sucks.’

He relaxes somewhat and then pours your toothbrushes out of the cup. You’re about to ask him what he’s doing, but then he’s filling the cup with water and crouching down next to you.

‘I don't know if you can drink that, but you can rinse your mouth out at least?’

Now that he’s said it, you’re thinking that it’s pretty shitty if you can’t drink water. Water is one of the most basic fucking things out there and you’re going to be pissed if it has the potential to screw you up.

You take the cup from him so you can rinse your mouth out. You’d like to experiment with drinking water later on rather than now. You aren’t interested in feeling worse, and you’d rather get the bile out of your mouth. 

He touches his hand to your back while you’re making your way through the whole cup, spitting everything out like you’re a fancy prick tasting wine. You don’t want to taste anything. You shift a little when you’re done so you can see Hal better. His hand feels nice. He reaches past you to flush the toilet and you’ll blame your sickness for not thinking of that.

‘Why are you doing this?’ you ask. ‘Figured you’d just let me stew in here. Or scream at me.’

He strokes your hair out of your face before going back to rubbing you on the back. 

‘I'm way too cool to scream,’ he says. ‘I might super casually ask if you committed any crimes tonight and also what the fuck this means.’ 

You feel the same way you did before you drank Hal’s blood earlier, if not worse. You can’t believe that this happened. You literally accomplished fuck all tonight, and now you’re feeling like you’re on the verge of tearing Hal’s throat out. 

You shift so that your head is resting against the arm you have on the toilet, and you press your nose against your sleeve to try to tone down the intensity of Hal’s scent. It was bad before he put his wrist near your nose.

You’re weak for him, you think. Those fingers brushing your hair back and paying attention to your back are intoxicating, and the person they’re connected to is ten times more so. You can’t keep letting yourself fall for every little thing he does. 

‘I doubt that,’ you say. ‘Not that I know of. And ... I don’t know.’ You pause. You don’t particularly enjoy giving people details about your sexual encounters, especially not Hal. It almost feels like cheating, which makes no sense as far as you’re concerned. 

‘Something about the guy I was with... His blood was just _wrong_ and it fucked me up. I don’t know how to explain it.’

‘Right. I guess all that can wait until you're feeling better. Can I get you anything? I don't even know how to look after human people …’

If it weren’t for the hunger pains, you could probably go to sleep right now. Sleeping against a toilet is disgusting in several ways, but you’re tired and Hal’s hand against your back is soothing and comforting, not to mention warm. You’d like to turn around and cuddle into him, but you won’t. You’re too afraid of hurting him, and you aren’t certain that he would want that anyway. 

You aren’t accustomed to him being this caring around you. He may not have been a complete asshole when he found you bleeding out in the bathroom, but he wasn’t acting like this toward you. You almost entertain the idea that you’re dreaming. 

‘No, I ... I think I just need to lay down,’ you mumble. You look at him, watching him carefully and trying to avoid letting your gaze slip down to his neck. ‘Are you okay?’ you ask. This isn’t normal Hal behavior. That doesn’t mean you’re unhappy with it, but it’s definitely got you concerned.

Hal makes an awkward noise not unlike a laugh and takes his hand off of your back. You feel your heart sink. You should have just kept your mouth shut. You of all people should know that he wouldn’t be comfortable answering that question. 

‘I can't believe _you're_ asking _me_ if I'm okay,’ he says. ‘And I'm fine, I understand caring isn't my usual colour but I wear it okay. C'mon, I'll get you to bed.’

You look at him uncertainly, but you decide not to push it. You don’t want to fuck things up more than you already have. You swear that there’s a feeling of tension in the air and it’s only getting worse when you open your mouth. 

You help him with getting your arm around him. Once that’s done, you reluctantly let go of the toilet and use him to keep yourself from falling as you push yourself to your feet. You’re shaky and unsteady, but that’s the whole point of holding onto him. You like how being close to him feels. You wish you didn’t. There’s no way that wanting him like that is going to turn out favorably for you. 

‘Sorry for sneaking out,’ you say. Hell, you’re regretting it. Even if you wanted to find an alternative to using Hal as your personal blood bank, you aren’t certain if this was worth it.

You initially try to avoid leaning all of your weight against him. You don’t want to fuck him over by essentially making him carry you. You’re drawn to him, though. Your body perceives being this close to him as really fucking good, and he doesn’t seem to be struggling with you. You think you can just let yourself enjoy this for now, even if it fucks you over later. You know that you’ll want it again later. You want to take every opportunity that presents itself to be close to him. It’s selfish and it’s only screwing you over in the feelings department, but you can’t help it. 

He leans his head into yours and you really want to take advantage of that and turn your face so you can kiss him, but you don’t. You don’t want to do that in case he doesn’t want it, and his response to your apology has your focus anyway.

‘It's okay,’ he says. He’d never let you off the hook if he didn’t mean it. Even without knowing that, he sounds _sincere._ He’s not reacting the way you thought he would.

‘I thought you’d be pissed at me.’

He helps you into bed, and whether it’s on purpose or not, ends up right there with you. He doesn’t move away and you don’t lie down just yet. You press your hand to your forehead in an effort to soothe the headache you have. You love his voice, but every syllable that comes out of his mouth is making it feel like your skull is throbbing. 

‘So ... you …’ he starts awkwardly. ‘Look, you just got rid of a shitload of your nutritional content, fuck, that was the worst way of phrasing it I could have chosen. Fuck. I mean, you've had a shit night. If you bite me, I swear I won't like ... make that worse. I can be a food source and fuck off or stay with you or whatever, I don't need ... I'm so bad at this. Tell me what you need, I'm here, you know?’

He’s offering to let you feed off of him. And fuck off afterward if you want him to. Or stay. You want him to stay. You rub the back of your neck. You don’t know how to go about this. 

Drinking his blood is fucking incredible for both of you, but you can’t get rid of the nagging fear that you’ll take too much from him one day and seriously hurt him or kill him. You don’t know if you can risk holding back tonight. You’re already feeling unstable. You don’t want to know how it feels to lose control of yourself again. You snapped so easily when he was pushing you before. You can’t do that again.

‘I went out because I’m scared shitless of hurting you. I know you’ve told me to forget about that, but I can’t. I could have killed you when you baited me. I don’t want to do that.’ You’re not looking at him. You’ll stop talking if you look at him. ‘I don’t think I can hold back tonight. I’ll fuck up and hurt you if I do. But ... I don’t want you to leave. Unless you want to.’

‘I'll stay,’ he says, and you’re flooded with a ridiculous amount of relief. If you weren’t practically trembling with the effort to avoid pinning him and sinking your fangs into his neck, you probably wouldn’t be able to refrain from swooning on the spot. You try not to read too deep into Hal choosing to stay with you. Chances are that he’s just doing it because you said you wanted him to. 

‘And I'm not gonna pull the piss you off or cut myself trick on you, that isn't what I ... It's your choice, right? But I really don't see how waiting is going to help, and short of actually stumbling across a criminal who deserves the death penalty, which I signed a petition _against_ for the record, I don't know that going for someone else is going to help either. Especially when you know my blood isn't going to fuck you up like random dude's did.’

Being reassured that he isn’t going to bait you into biting him again is almost just as relieving as him saying he’ll stay. You discussed this after he pissed you off and he bit you, but you still worry about it. You’re glad he won’t be slicing himself open again either. 

He’s looking away, and you’re not sure if you’re grateful or not. 

‘Waiting is the exact opposite of helping, but it isn’t like I’m all that enthusiastic about drinking blood.’ Well, you are when you’re doing it, but that’s different. ‘I went for someone else because I don’t want to risk killing you. I know it wasn’t smart, but I’m fucking terrified that I’ll go too far with you one day. I didn’t think getting fucked up on another person’s blood was even a thing. This was a shitty way to find out.’

God, you don’t want to do this. But you do. Or at least the weird ass instinct part of you does. 

‘I’m going to do it, but I don’t want you going easy on me if I don’t stop. Beat the shit out of me if you have to, I don’t care. I’d rather get a concussion than kill you.’

‘Oh, good. Yeah, I mean, I'm absolutely willing to punch you.’

You hope he’s telling the truth. He punched you in the dick the other time to get you to stop, but he was fairly fucked over by the time he did that. And weak. Getting punched in the dick hurts, but it wasn’t quite as bad as it could have been when he did it. 

He smiles at you and fuck, his smile is completely adorable and you want to see it a thousand more times. You want to find ways to make him smile and grin, and you would love the opportunity to make him laugh. You can’t sit here and gush over that shit, though. He’s already bearing his neck for you and he’s waiting on you to do it. He’s too good for this. That doesn’t mean you can resist. 

You don’t fully recall moving closer to him or getting near his neck, but you do. You don’t like how reality blurs when you’re as hungry as you are now. You swallow, close your eyes, and sink your fangs into his neck. You’re instantly hooked. You curl an arm around his waist and savor the taste of every last drop of Hal’s blood on your tongue. It’s _nothing_ like that other guy’s blood.

Feeding off of him is different this time. It’s blissful and it feels great, but your fatigue is keeping you somewhere just beyond complete arousal. You suppose you can understand why. Hal turned you into walking jelly earlier by putting you through two orgasms, you’ve spent most of the night feeling hungry as hell, you drank the shittiest blood imaginable from a stranger while he went on grinding against you, and you puked when you got home. You still feel weird from that, but Hal’s blood is helping you greatly. 

It’s weird, but it’s almost like his blood is having a soothing effect on you. The intensity of the throbbing headache you have is slowly dying down. The feverish feeling that’s been bothering you is fading gradually, and you no longer feel sick to your stomach. You still feel ... off, but it’s significantly better than what you’ve been dealing with. 

He’s not responding to this like he usually does, which sucks in a way, but you’re not coherent enough to really worry about it. If anything, it shows that he’s more in control of himself, and you need that. He’s fun when he’s horny and desperate to touch you, but he’s also not exactly in the mindset to push you away when he’s like that. 

You reach back to rest your free hand in the space between his shoulder blades, clutching the fabric of his shirt. You think this must be what ambrosia tastes like.

You’ve been hungry all night. You spent way too long putting this off, and now that it’s happening you don’t want to stop. With the other guy, you had to fight to keep yourself close to him and avoid breaking away to hunch yourself over a toilet. Every mouthful of him was hell. The taste of Hal’s blood convinced you that you could do this for eternity. 

‘Dirk,’ he says.

His voice sounds muffled and far away even though you’re pressed right against him. Hearing him makes you dwell on how much you like his voice, and then your brain fills with so much mushy, gooey shit that you’re embarrassed by it. 

You think you’re missing something important, but you can’t pinpoint what that is. Your brain is moving too slow to figure it out and you’re drowning in his taste. You wonder if it’s possible to be addicted to one person’s blood.

‘Dirk, stop, or I'm going to punch you in your softest bits.’

Getting a fist to the throat, chest, and dick is a rude way to snap you out of wherever the hell you go when you’re feeding on him, but it works and you’re backing the fuck away from him with a hand pressed to your neck and one of your arms covering your crotch. You think those are tears fucking your vision up. Great. 

He actually hurt you. You’re wondering if the places where he hit you are going to bruise or not, but you’re almost ... proud of him, you think. Which is fucking weird as hell considering that all of that hurt like a bitch, but he got you to stop. You’d take getting your ass handed to you over accidentally killing him any day. 

‘Thanks,’ you manage, your voice strained. You hope he doesn’t interpret that as sarcasm. You genuinely are grateful that he stopped you however he could.

Jesus, your dick feels utterly decimated. You wipe your eyes, but apparently there’s more tears to come, and you’re pretty sure you only succeed in smearing the first ones across your cheeks. God fucking damn it. You don’t want Hal mocking you for this. 

‘You're welcome,’ he says, rolling his neck. ‘I'm a pretty rad victim. I come with post dinner cuddles, if you want.’

You look at him when he speaks. You’re surprised he isn’t trying to get out of his pants and into yours right now, but you aren’t going to complain. Sex with him is great, but you think you would be too tired to make it worthwhile tonight. Plus, getting punched in the dick is a quick way of turning you off. 

You stare at him suspiciously for a few moments before you decide that you don’t have the energy to give a shit about figuring him out. This is too good of an opportunity to pass up anyway. However, you don’t immediately drop into his arms. You actually get up.

‘Let me go change first. Cuddling is a lot better with pajamas.’

‘Sounds good,’ he says, nodding and standing up. 

He takes off his shirt without thinking about it and you decide it’s time to actually leave. You don’t need to be making shit incredibly awkward by standing around and watching him strip down. It doesn’t matter if you think he’s hotter than hell; that would just be weird and the last thing you want is for him to call you out for it. 

When you get to your room, you pull your shirt off and glance down to your chest. Your skin is red where he punched you, but you don’t think it’s that bad. You get your pants off and pull on the sweatpants and tank you were wearing earlier. At least you actually get to enjoy wearing comfortable shit now. 

You look over your shirt and pants to get an idea of whether they’re salvageable or not, and to your surprise, they aren’t that bad. There’s only a couple of blood stains that you’ll have to deal with. You toss the clothes aside for later. You feel like you’ve been hit by a train. You aren’t interested in scrubbing stain remover into fabric when there’s a guy in the other room waiting for you to snuggle the hell out of him. 

You head back to Hal’s room with a yawn. You’re totally drained.

His bed looks enticing as hell right now. It’s like you’ve been wandering aimlessly through a desert for days on end, and now you’ve discovered your oasis. Except the desert is really just your own exhaustion and the oasis is another dude’s bed. Hal’s bed, which you have been naked in more times than you ever could have foreseen. 

Hal is also in the bed. That shouldn’t make you more eager to crawl into it, but you think it’s best to stop being surprised by things that you shouldn’t want. He pulls the covers back and you swear that your heart melts. You’re smitten for him and his bed. You don’t hesitate to make yourself comfortable in the space that he’s made for you. 

‘I thought about putting a movie on but you look like you wouldn't even make it past the opening logos,’ he says.

Under normal circumstances, you would have more confidence in your ability to stay awake. You are royally incompetent when it comes to sleeping, after all. However, you’re still going to argue as if you aren’t minutes from dozing off. 

‘That’s just how I look. Insomnia, remember? One of the symptoms is looking like you’re barely conscious at any given moment.’

He’s pulling you closer. You take that as a sign that it’s okay to wrap your arms around him and cuddle the absolute hell out of him. There’s just something incredibly satisfying about being close to someone and touching them. It’s hard to believe that the person you want that with now is Hal. You don’t know how the two of you have gotten like this in such little time, but you love it. You love him too, even if that’s going to fuck you over later. 

‘I'm tired too,’ he says. ‘Ow, oh my God, your hair is a weapon like this.’

‘’M not tired,’ you insist. You close your eyes because you’re just that far from being tired. ‘My hair is not a weapon. You’re just weak and can’t tolerate how awesome it is.’

You _almost_ snap at him for fucking up your hair. You’re very defensive of it when it’s styled. You decide not to, though. He’s already seen you plenty of times without gel loaded into it, and it’s not like sleeping won’t mess it up anyway. You also may like the feel of it.

‘Weakened _from_ your awesome weapon hair, maybe. You smell good, is that the gel?’ He presses his nose into your hair. ‘Okay, dumb anime hair is approved. It looks good when you leave it natural too, though. And it doesn't stab me.’

He likes your hair no matter how you wear it. You don’t know what to do with the gushy feelings that this sends rippling through your chest. Those gushy feelings only get stronger with each little touch from him. His fingers stroking through your hair and his body touching yours are both delightful things that are really blowing your mind at the moment. You squeeze him in your arms, just a little. He smells like soap and shampoo. 

‘Mhm, probably. It’s scented. The shower from earlier might be playing a role in how I smell too. That or I just smell fuckin’ awesome regardless of either of those things.’ Dear god, he kissed your forehead. You are falling way too quickly. You immediately move so that you can kiss his cheek in return. ‘My “dumb anime hair” is the raddest shit out there. You’re just jealous and can’t handle some weaponized locks.’ You nuzzle him, just because you can. You can blame it on being tired if you have to. ‘My hair looks horrible in its natural state. It’s an unholy monstrosity and it’s a bitch to style.’

This is so warm and nice. Most of the warmth is coming from him and you’re just absorbing it like some kind of parasite, but your point still stands. You catch yourself smiling when he nudges your nose with his and kisses your lips. You cup his cheek and stroke your thumb over it before kissing him back. He’s so gorgeous and lovable. 

‘I like your hair,’ he says, kissing you again. You hum quietly, happily. ‘I like ... you. Is that okay?’

You swear that you freeze up instantly. You may have been on the verge of falling asleep, but you’re wide awake now. To make it even better, you can guess that your cheeks are bright red. 

You spend a lot of time staring at him like a dumbass while you try to find a reason for him to say that. Other than genuinely liking you, that is, because that’s impossible, right? He’s just fucking with you or ... you took more blood than you thought, or _something_. But he’s so close to you and he’s letting you cuddle him and he’s been kissing you. But that’s supposed to be meaningless for you both, isn’t it? Just like the sex. You’re making yourself feel sicker than you already are by debating this so much. 

You’re being a fucking idiot. 

You hesitate. Your mouth and throat are suddenly dry as hell. This is important, of course they are.

‘Yeah,’ you finally tell him. ‘I ... like you too.’

‘Cool,’ he says. ‘Cool, um, right, good to know.’

You think that your heart is beating the hardest it ever has since you were turned. It only gets worse when you notice him smiling like that. Dear fucking god, that’s precious. He’s precious. He’s absolutely amazing and he _actually_ likes you back. You don’t know where the two of you are supposed to go from now. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. You’re feeling stupidly giddy and you can’t think correctly. 

He hides his face away in the pillow. For some reason, that strikes you as not okay in any way whatsoever. You position yourself so that you can hold him better. And so you can press a few kisses to the back of his neck, of course. 

‘So what, we exchange some fairly important shit and you decide to hide in a pillow?’

‘I'm not hiding,’ he says, shifting to face you again. ‘Can we talk about something else so this stops happening? You broke my face, fucker.’

You love seeing him like this. You want to make him smile more often. He deserves to smile and be happy, and you want to do whatever you can to make him happy. You don’t know how he’s become so important to you in such a small amount of time. You cared about him before all this, but the two of you have gotten so much closer since you were bitten. In a way, you’re kind of thankful that it happened. You don’t know for sure if the two of you would have gotten to this point without that push. 

You’re smiling too. It’s hard to keep your mouth under control when someone you love is smiling like that. 

‘You totally were. Shoving your face in a pillow is definitely a form of hiding, Hal.’ You shake your head at him. ‘Sometimes I really do doubt that you’re human. Smiling is normal for most people, you know. I didn’t break your face. If I did, I probably wouldn’t fix it. You’re cute like this.’

His hand feels nice on your back. You run your fingers over the length of his arm. He presses even closer, so your foreheads are touching.

‘I don't even think it’s stopping anyway,’ he says. ‘Not if you keep hugging me and I'll still know you like me. What did I even do to get this? Was it my sweet body?’

This feels better than anything you’ve ever done. You’ve cuddled with past boyfriends before and even with a few of your flings, but this doesn’t feel anything like those times. You like cuddling. It’s one of your favorite things to do with another person. Cuddling with Hal, however, is something you never want to stop doing. You don’t want to leave the bed or him ever. You take advantage of your position and press your lips to his for a moment. Then his cheek. Then his nose, his other cheek, and everywhere you can reach. You love him. You love this. 

You didn’t think that Hal would want something like this. You considered it a few times, definitely, but you couldn’t be certain that he would ever want to, well, love you. Or like you, as he put it. God, the two of you are ridiculous. You’re like a couple of fifth graders with crushes on each other but no way to admit to it. Had this gone on any longer, you think you might have started to consider giving Hal a note asking him if he liked you with two checkboxes for him to choose from. 

You kiss him again. Your insides are probably melting from all this sweetness. He makes a tiny noise that’s fucking adorable and it makes your heart swell. Giving him kisses is great. It’s also great to feel each individual kiss he plants on you. You love this. You can’t believe the two of you didn’t get around to being like this sooner, but you’re glad it happened anyway. You still have your doubts and worries, but you try to ignore them for now in favor of him. 

‘Nah, though your body is pretty damn sweet. I think ... I don’t know.’ Your cheeks are burning and the way he’s now kissing your face as you talk isn’t helping. It’s hard to keep yourself from laughing when he kisses you in between your sentences. You want to tell him you love him, but you don’t. You don’t want to scare him away so soon, and you think that it’s too early to be telling him shit like that. You are _not_ going to fuck this one up by being a clingy asshole. Or at least you hope you aren’t. It would particularly suck if you did considering that you two live together. ‘I can’t really explain it. You’re easier to crush on when you aren’t constantly being an antagonistic asshole.’

‘I'm still gonna be antagonistic,’ he says. ‘I can't think of anything to be a dick about right now, but there's something out there. Come back to me when I'm less puddle-shaped.’

‘Oh, I’m aware. I didn’t say you weren’t being an antagonistic asshole at all. Antagonism is like the core part of your personality.’

‘Good. Wouldn't want to disappoint you about five minutes in when I do think of something stupid to say.’

‘So you acknowledge that the shit you spew is stupid?’ you ask. 

You would give him a smug look if you though you could right now. It’s hard to go after him in some of the ways you want to when you feel so strongly for him. It’s also difficult to find the desire to speak when he’s leaving kiss after kiss on your lips and skin. 

Kissing him slowly is thrilling. You don’t think that you and Hal have taken the time to kiss each other like this. You’ve gotten close, sure, but that’s mostly been after sex when you’ve been too tired to kiss him in any other way. You’re both tired now, but this just feels ... good. You comb your fingers through his hair before beginning to massage his scalp. You don’t think you could ever get tired of this. 

‘’M getting tired,’ he says. 

‘I’m getting tired too,’ you agree. ‘Should probably sleep.’

‘I like you.’

Your heart might just burst out of your chest at this rate.

‘I like you too. A lot.’ You like being this close to Hal. If it was anyone else, you wouldn’t be able to handle it long.

Something about being cuddled as close to Hal as you are is incredibly appealing. You don’t care if having your limbs tangled like this causes you to wake up a little sore later on. Holding him is worth it. Being near him is worth all the discomfort you can imagine. That ... is sickeningly mushy, but that’s how you get when you let yourself crush on a guy. You would berate yourself, but you can’t find it in you to do that. This situation feels too right for you to spoil it with your mental bullshit. 

‘Just roll me away if it gets too much,’ he says.

You laugh sleepily.

‘I don’t think it’ll come to that,’ you say.

You’re struggling to stay awake. With how tired you feel, you’re shocked that you’ve managed to make it this long without passing out. His palm pressed to your back feels downright heavenly. It shouldn’t. You shouldn’t be getting attached, but you can’t pull yourself away from him. You don’t know how to even go about doing that.


	12. Chapter 12

You aren’t accustomed to sleeping well, or even sleeping at all, but it’s something you’ve been doing more frequently ever since this shit with Hal started. You should be staying awake for hours on end and pacing the room to pass the time. You should at least be having nightmares that force you to wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. Neither of these things happen. You sleep like the dead. You never once move away from Hal, though at some point you end up spooning him.

You begin to stir when he kisses your hand and rolls over so he’s facing you. You’re half-asleep when you open your eyes, but even when you are as dazed as this, you can’t ignore the swell of warm, fluttery feelings in you when you see him. You try to shift closer to him, although it’s practically impossible unless you somehow break reality. You give him a gentle squeeze and a kiss on the cheek before closing your eyes again. You’re so tired. You don’t want to move ever again. 

‘G’morning,’ you mumble quietly.

‘Good morning,’ he whispers. ‘You don't have to get up. Let me up, though.’

You’re perfectly happy to stay in bed. You’re warm and comfortable, and you don’t think you’re quite prepared to be fully waking up just yet anyway. You aren’t happy with the idea of Hal getting out of bed though, so you tighten your hold on him. Not enough to be painful, of course, but enough to make it clear that you want him to stay. 

Hal is perfect for cuddling. You’ve had plenty of nice cuddling sessions with dudes in the past, but you’re convinced that Hal was practically made to be cuddled. You’re sleepy and your thoughts are mostly mush right now, but you think you’re going to go ahead and decide that Hal is the best person out there for cuddling. It’s him. 

You’re an asshole, but you aren’t enough of one to hold him against his will. With a grumble, you roll over and wrap your arms around one of the pillows instead. It’s not as good as Hal. 

‘You should stay in bed,’ you murmur.

He doesn’t get up like you were expecting, but instead he cuddles up to you. You want to ask him what he thinks he’s doing when he just told you that he needed you to let him get up, but you’re too distracted by how good his arms around your waist and his lips on your neck feel. You don’t know how you convinced him to stay in bed, but you’re proud of yourself for doing it.

‘Okay. I'm convinced. Forever? 'Cause I'll stay in bed forever. Who needs to leave? That was obviously a bad idea, you're so clever for finding a way around that.’

‘Mhm, I am clever. Getting up is a stupid idea. Staying in bed forever is ten times better. You don’t need to do responsibilities or any of that shit.’

Him nuzzling you is great. You decide that it’s time to stop sulking and roll over so that you’re facing him again. You press a kiss to his lips and hook your arm around his waist.

You almost feel like you’re dreaming right now. Just being this tender with him coupled with the fact that you don’t feel entirely awake and aware yet gives you the thought that maybe you are dreaming. But last night was real. You’re sure it was. God, you need to work on snapping out of this tired haze before you confuse yourself. 

‘At least ten times better,’ he says, kissing you back. ‘Okay, half an hour tops, then responsibilities. I probably have a billion emails. You're very distracting.’

Those lips of his are perfect. You would gladly forget about breathing if it meant never having to break from a kiss with him. You groan.

‘ _Only_ half an hour? That’s not fair. You should stay here with me for like, two hours. Go back to sleep. Emails and responsibilities don’t matter.’

He checks his watch and says, ‘One hour.’

One hour doesn’t sound long enough, but you’ll take what you can get. You aren’t in the mood to argue with him over something as insignificant as the amount of time he spends cuddling with you (which actually feels incredibly significant to you, but you’re ignoring that). Plus, you can’t force him to stay in bed with you for the remainder of the day. Some of his responsibilities include taking care of himself, after all. You don’t want him staying with you instead of eating when he needs to. 

‘Fine.’

He strokes down your back and you hum contentedly. And then he grabs your ass and you jab him in the ribs to maybe dissuade him somewhat. You don’t like your chances.

‘Your obsession with my ass is bordering on worrisome,’ you tell him. ‘Are you just hanging with me so you can get close to my ass? Is that your goal?’

‘I wasn't gonna tell you, but I'm actually from a secret religion. We all worship your ass, but I'm here as like a missionary. I don't know if I'm using that word right, whatever, the point is, I'm gonna get up real close and personal, get my divine knowledge on your ass and then report back. Probably need to write a whole new bible, but I'm up to the challenge.’

You can’t keep yourself from grimacing as he goes on about the bullshit religion he’s apparently devoted himself to. 

‘I’m beginning to think you need therapy or some shit. I know I have a good ass, but something tells me that it’s unhealthy to worship it as a divine entity. My ass is an ass. There’s nothing holy about it.’

Hal kneading your ass is a good way to make you wake up more. You rub your eyes and slide one of your hands down to his ass in retaliation. 

‘You know, your ass is pretty impressive too. You’re missing out,’ you say.

‘My ass stops traffic, I'm not under any inferiority complex regarding my ass. Yours deserves temples, though.’

‘I swear to god, I will personally destroy any temples to my ass that you attempt to make. Asses don’t need temples. My ass doesn’t need a temple just because you’re in love with it.’

You had been hoping that you would be able to doze off after you managed to get him to stay in bed with you for a little longer, but talking with Hal is causing you to gradually become more awake and aware. You might be tired, but at least you can admire Hal better when you aren’t on the verge of passing out. 

‘Can I eat you out?’ he asks. ‘Is it too early in the morning to be asking that? Afternoon, but like, the mood of morning. Should mornings slash the time after sleeping be for cuddles and not for me thinking with my dick? I have no idea how to act in a—um, not-one night stand.’

You initially raise your eyebrows in surprise at his question. Ok, so he might be kneading your ass and paying way more attention to it than the average cuddler, so maybe you should have seen this coming. But then again, your brain is practically a snail at the moment. Regardless, you’re interested. 

You spend way too much time thinking before answering his question. You do it to fuck with him and because you’re taking a while to piece together a response. It’s cute how he avoids saying ‘relationship.’ It’s also cute when he blushes.

‘Who would be stupid enough to pass up that offer? I think mornings slash the time after sleeping can fit cuddling and your dick thoughts.’

He kisses you happily and you think his lips feel even better when you’re slowly waking up. Something about the kiss just feels comforting, and for some reason you think you feel safe being this vulnerable around him. You think you could hand over every part of yourself to him. All your thoughts, your secrets, memories, _everything_. God, you’re falling too hard and too fast. 

You’re content to keep things lazy and slow between the two of you, but you’re also fine with him moving down the length of your body and exposing you. You anticipated more buildup than this, but you’re also interested in being aroused and sleepy as hell at the same time, which seems to be what he’s going for. 

You reach down to pet through his hair and close your eyes. The way he's nuzzling against you is mesmerizing, and you find yourself getting lost just thinking about it.

‘Hal,’ you murmur. ‘You’re too good.’

You’re like putty for him to play with. You blame this on the part of your brain that’s still clinging to sleep rather than a willingness to let him do anything he pleases with you. That is definitely something you do not have. You might let him turn you over, but you’re tired and it’s easier to let him do it himself. (Fatigue aside, you would still probably let him do whatever he wants with you. The idea of him using you however he sees fit is a major turn on, and you can’t shake the trust you have in him.) 

You decide that your pants are not going well with this and choose to squirm around just enough to kick them off of your legs. You still have your shirt on, but you can take that off later. Right now you’re focused on the lingering sensation of Hal’s lips kissing down your back and the feeling of his fingers on you. Every touch sends a pulse of heat through you, and you want to shift into a position that’s more ideal for getting your hands on him. 

Hal spreads you open so that he can get his tongue on you, and /god/ that feels good. His tongue is practically electric, and every lick has you fighting back the urge to lift your hips and press yourself against his mouth. 

‘You really know how to wake a guy up, huh?’ you ask, hoping that your voice doesn’t sound as uneven as you think it does.

He hums in agreement, not taking his mouth away for a second. Hearing him moan as he runs his tongue over you is fucking thrilling. The fact that he’s getting worked up just from giving your ass his attention is hotter than hell. His sounds are practically intoxicating as it is, and hearing them just makes it that much harder to resist the desire to turn over and _really_ get him to moan. You might be overly fond of the taste of dick, and you’re looking forward to the next time you can get your mouth on him. 

He bites you on the ass and you groan, leaning into it. You’re convinced that his teeth are absolutely amazing. 

‘You know it.’ he says. ‘Fuck you're sexy.’

You get yourself a handful of sheets in each hand and shake your head to the best of your ability. He slips his tongue inside you and you bite your lip in an effort to keep yourself grounded. 

‘Fuck,’ you moan, tightening your grip on the sheets. Then his hand reaches your dick and you find yourself gasping as he squeezes it. You can’t quite resist the urge to grind against the part of his hand that’s pressing against you, your hips moving involuntarily.

You think you’re completely awake by now. You can’t imagine being able to feel like falling asleep at any given moment when Hal is making you feel this good. He thinks your ass is worthy of worship, but you’re beginning to think that his mouth is. If he can make you moan this much just by using his tongue, he deserves a temple. Or at the very least, a trophy of some kind. His mouth is like some kind of divine gift, and you are incredibly fortunate to be enjoying it right now.

He shifts you so that you’re on your back and you immediately take the opportunity to grab a fistful of his hair. You aren’t holding it tightly enough for it to be painful, but you might end up doing that if he keeps paying attention to your dick. 

‘Hal, holy shit,’ you moan breathlessly. You love this. You love him, but there’s no way in hell that you’re going to work up the courage to say that even if he is blowing your mind. You bite your lip when he finally inserts his finger and press down against it. ‘You’re so fucking hot.’

He bites your thigh You want him to drag his teeth all over you. He could leave every inch of your skin battered and bruised with bite marks and you would still want more. You nearly beg for him to bite you again, but you end up becoming distracted by the warmth of his tongue traveling over your skin and the absolute magic he’s working with your ass. 

The more he works you up, the tighter you grip his hair. This is the best way you could have chosen to spend your hour in bed with him. You think you could happily live out the rest of your days like this. Fucking and cuddling are such enticing things.

‘Hey,’ you pant. ‘You should get up here.’ His lips are very tempting right now, and you’d love to get more than his head between your legs.

The moment that he’s not giving your dick attention anymore, a muffled whine pulls itself out of you. You don’t think you’ve ever had sex with anyone who has the same effect on you as Hal. He can get you desperate and practically melting in a matter of seconds if he wants you, and you don’t know how to hold yourself back around him. You don’t _want_ to hold yourself back. 

His teeth feel perfect on your skin as he bites you all the way up your chest. You groan whenever he applies just a little more pressure than usual and lean into his mouth. You think he could bite you hard enough for you to bleed and you would still love it. 

He takes your shirt all the way off and you tilt your head to the side to give him more room while he’s busy with your neck. In a way, you wish they wouldn’t ever fade. 

You are addicted to his lips. Hell, you are addicted to him. Now that he’s close enough, you can touch him as much as you like, and you take advantage of that immediately. You tug his shirt off and then occupy one of your hands with pinching and rubbing his nipple while you stroke every inch of skin you can reach with the other one. You let your hand slowly slip down the length of his body until you can rub teasing patterns into the head of his dick with your thumb. 

‘Hey,’ he says, his voice breathless but clearly going for a casual tone. ‘You wanted me here?

You can’t seem to get enough of his lips. As soon as he’s done talking, you’re kissing him again. You only pull away long enough to reply. 

‘Fuck yeah,’ you tell him. You kiss him again. Just a peck, though. Or two. ‘Your mouth is fucking amazing. I think the deity you’ve been looking to worship has been under your nose this whole time, not below my back.’

You love how he reacts to you teasing him. You give his dick a few light strokes before settling into a rhythm, all the while keeping your touch teasing enough to keep him from going over the edge. You think you could happily do this for hours on end just to hear him cuss and moan for you over and over again.

‘Sorry babe, your ass demands monotheism,’ he says, reaching down to grope you demonstrably. ‘Don't want to get kicked out of church when I'm this devoted. That'd be a tragedy.’

You’re definitely going to have to get used to him grabbing your ass. He kisses you so you can’t bitch at him and you run your fingers up his spine. Fuck air, you’re going to spend the rest of your days kissing Hal and asphyxiation isn’t going to stop you. You’re disappointed when he breaks the kiss, but the period of time that your lips are away from his is blissfully short. He’s just getting the lube.

‘Can I fuck you now?’ he asks.

You roll the head of his cock between your fingers.

‘If you think you can handle it.’

He bites you on the lip with a teasing look on his face like he thinks that’s a punishment and you think you might start saying snarky shit to him during sex more often. He bites you a lot already (and you’re immensely grateful for it), but you aren’t sure that it will ever be enough. Fuck, nothing is ever enough. You’re stuck in a circle, constantly wanting him and wanting more from him. He’s an addiction to you. 

Something flutters inside of your stomach when he presses his face against your neck. You’re so fucking weak for him. You don’t know how this happened or how you got to this point, but you can’t help but want to be this tender with him. You stroke your fingers through his hair and turn your head to kiss his temple. You don’t ever want this to end. You want to spend eternity fucking him and cuddling him and shooting the shit with him. Nothing else matters.

‘I can’t say I ever took you as the type to be this devoted to any particular religion, even one centered around an ass,’ you say.

You can feel his hand brushing your inner thighs as he slicks himself up and it feels so good and teasing. You stroke up and down his back impatiently.

‘Wouldn't be as impressive if I was already the devout type,’ he says. ‘If gods were catching my eye left and right then it'd be basically old news if I suddenly came across your ass and found that it was my new theological fling. No, your ass is special.’

‘You sure you want to be monotheistic though? I know you’re hellbent on worshipping my ass and no one else’s, but I think there’s other parts of me you appreciate too. My ass might be special, but I think you’re exaggerating its holiness here.’

You bite your lip as his fingers enter you. The moment is fleeting though, and your breathing stutters when he begins to push his dick inside of you. God, he’s hotter than hell.

‘Fffuck, I know you're right, but oh my God.’

You can’t stop touching him. You run your fingers over his skin while he lets you adjust, determined to map out every part of him. He’s incredibly hot. Gorgeous, too, and you think you could spend hours just looking at him without getting bored. You love hearing him like this. You don’t think you’ve ever enjoyed someone’s voice this much. 

‘Hard to even think about how much I like the rest of you when I'm feeling this,’ he says.

You bite your lip as you groan. You’re seriously wondering how it is that he’s so committed to your ass when his dick feels this good. You reach up to grab a handful of his hair, keeping your grip tight and pulling and tugging while you move your hips to meet every thrust he gives you. You occupy your other hand with roaming over his torso until you reach his nipples and begin pinching and rubbing them. 

‘Okay, fuck, you're hot as the bottom of my old laptop after the fan got fucked up and those burns lasted weeks. This is why they don't send monks out of the monastery, you interact with the holy ass and then all of a sudden you realise there's even more to worship and fuck if I don't want to worship every damn part of you.’

He’s so close to you and it feels amazing. When you hear his comparison, you have to hide your face against his neck to keep yourself from laughing. It doesn’t work, even if the rest of what he says is pretty damn hot. God, he sounds so good like this. You kind of want to get him to talk more.

‘You know you’re a fucking dork, right?’ you ask, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice. You pepper kisses along his neck, followed by nips. ‘I think the most romantic thing I’ve ever been compared to is definitely a shitty laptop. You should become a poet, I think it would suit you.’

‘Nngh, don't have the RAM for rhyming right now, check back in later when I'm not sex-stupid.’ He kisses you like it’s the only thing worth doing, moaning into your mouth when you pinch particularly hard at his nipple. ‘Can compare you to better than that though, fuck, you're …’

You bite his neck with even more pressure than before and he loses his train of thought. He’s absolutely divine when he’s moaning from being bitten or having his nipples toyed with, and that only encourages you to pinch him harder and cover every part of his neck you can reach with bruises. You kiss each hickey you give him after you’ve made them and stroke the hair in your fist. 

You’re tempted to bite him again. You were a little too afraid when you bit him during sex to enjoy it to its fullest, but you aren’t sure that you should just go for that. You want to see and feel him get worked up over your fangs piercing his skin. He sounded gorgeous the last time, and you would do anything to squeeze all the noises you can out of him. 

Just when you think that you might ask him, Hal’s lips are on yours and you can’t remember your question. You nip and bite at his lips and ignore the way that getting your tongue pressed against his has you moaning like a complete whore. His dick is doing nothing to prevent you from being so loud, but it’s hard to care when it feels so good. When you’re apart long enough for you to think, you manage to find your voice in between pants. 

‘Can I ... Can I bite you?’

You don’t know how he can possibly get you any more turned on, but his whine seems to do the job. Probably the teeth sinking into your shoulder too, you think, once the haze in your head clears enough for you to recognize that it’s him biting you that feels so good and not just his cock buried inside of you. You can feel your fangs poking out just slightly, and you wonder if it’s possible that sex causes this.

‘Yes, yes, oh my God,’ he says. ‘You're so fucking hot.’

You love the sound of his voice as he tells you over and over that you can bite him. Under other circumstances, you might make Hal beg you to bite him before you would be willing to do it, but you’re too desperate to care enough about drawing things out like that.

‘You’re fucking gorgeous,’ you tell him.

God, there’s something unspeakably hot about him positioning himself so that you can bite him. You kiss along his neck until you can’t resist any longer and bite into him.

You have been aware from the moment that you first tasted him that his blood is absolutely amazing. Hal’s blood is like nectar handed down by whatever gods are out there and there is no doubt in your mind that you are addicted to it. Biting him during sex is a million times more intense than it is when you don’t have him balls deep in your ass and you’re fucking loving it. He’s not even moving and you feel like you’re drowning in the best kind of pleasure there is. 

_‘Oh-my-God,’_ he groans.

You love the sounds he makes while you’ve got him like this. You stroke your hands over his body and slip one down to squeeze his ass. You can’t quite resist kneading it and you’re grateful that you don’t. Everything about Hal turns you on until it’s almost painful. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It’s so difficult to convince yourself to stop, but you don’t want to take too much from him and ruin the moment. Or, more importantly, kill him. You pull back slowly, your heart as close to pounding as it can get and your cock practically throbbing now that he’s moving again. You lick and kiss at the wound on his neck before cupping his face and pressing your lips to his.

You’re beginning to think that he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. That may just be a product of the heat of the moment, but you can’t quite shake the building affection you have for him. You want to tell him you love him but it is way too early to be saying anything like that, especially if you don’t want to risk scaring him away. 

‘Fuck, Dirk,’ he groans against your lips. It sends an ache straight to your dick. Kissing him is hot, but somehow listening to him attempt to talk while you’re connected at the lips is a million times hotter. You comb your fingers through his hair while you stroke his cheek. He’s incredible. ‘You're so hot, oh _fuck, yes.’_

You bite your lip as he squeezes your dick. Jesus, that is intense as _fuck_ when he’s blowing his load in you at the same time. You groan and press a hand to your forehead as you squeeze your eyes shut before finally letting go, hitting your climax moments after him and shaking because of how hard it hits you. 

‘Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Hal,’ you cry out, gasping in between words.

He practically falls on top of you. God, he’s fucking gorgeous like this. You want to preserve the memory of him tired and breathless from sex in your mind forever. You take all the time that you want looking at him. With how many times he has ogled your ass, you think you’ve earned the right to stare. You kiss his cheek and spend several moments relishing the feeling of his skin touching your lips and nose before you pull back. 

‘Oh my God,’ he groans. ‘Oh ... my God.’ 

He moves to cuddle against your side instead of on top of you and you wrap your arm around him once he’s resting against your side. You can’t find it within yourself to refrain from being affectionate, and you don’t think you want to anyway. You press several kisses to his face before giving him a squeeze with your arm. He deserves to be worshipped. 

‘I …’ Hal says, sounding like he’s too wiped to even know what he’s saying. ‘Fucking hell. I'm crazy about you.’

Now that you have this with him, you can’t imagine going back to your old dynamic. You don’t want to. You love kissing him and touching him too much (and him). You run your fingers through his hair and allow a quiet chuckle to escape you.

‘I thought you were crazy for my ass?’ you tell him. Jesus, you’re breathless. ‘Is that devotion wavering now? My ass is a monogamist, remember? We’ve been over this.’

You kiss him on the forehead, then the nose. His skin on your lips is so soft and warm. Every part of him is welcoming in a way that leaves your heart gooey. You don’t deserve him, but you’re not stupid enough to give up something this good. 

‘Shit, wasn't expecting to find competition,’ he laughs. ‘I can't believe you're this good in bed. I can't believe I ever wasted my time trying to piss you off. Dicking about passive-aggressively rearranging the fridge when I could have been begging you to do this.’

You figure that if you don’t have the confidence to tell him this early that you love him, you’ll just have to settle for showing it. You think that peppering kisses on all the parts of him you can reach and stroking through his hair are both effective methods of doing that. There’s nothing more enjoyable than being with him like this. 

You pretend to be offended, putting a hand to your chest and scoffing. ‘Did you think I was terrible in bed before? I think I can manage getting dicked down, shit.’ Hal hugs your waist and you think your heart melts immediately. You would let him do anything.

He pokes his tongue out and you kiss it impulsively, returning his stupidity with just a tiny bit of your own. His happy-surprised face is adorable.

‘Sometimes your passive aggressive shit is fun. Competition is entertaining until we get obsessive about it,’ you say.

‘We can do both,’ he says. ‘Can we do both? Is that weird? I like competing too, even if I always win.’ You smile at him cheekily, fully expecting him to not let you get away with saying that.

Spending as much time as you have with him has caused you to start picking up on certain things more, like the hint of anxiety behind his suggestion. Even if he had said something completely batshit, you don’t think you could have turned him down. You elbow him gently and play back.

‘Do you have amnesia or something? You know, I think I can recall you pouting like a kindergartner in the shower because you lost.’

Is there anything better to look at than Hal when he’s grinning? No, you don’t think there is. There can’t be anything in the world more gorgeous than him when just seeing him smile has your heart doing cartwheels in your chest. You’re a sucker for him, which isn’t going to do you any favors if you don’t want to be losing to him most of the time. 

‘I don't think that happened,’ he says. ‘Doesn't sound like me at all. We could shower again, see if the scene of the alleged incident jogs my memory, but I'm thinking it didn't even happen so why dwell on it.’

Even now he’s winning. You want to stay in bed with him all day, but the idea of showering with him is really tempting you. You don’t think you can pass up the opportunity to do one of your favorite things with a hot dude that you like. 

‘I’m beginning to think that you’re bullshitting me or you have something wrong with you. Probably both, but it’s too early to unpack that right now.’ You could fall asleep from the feeling of his had on your side. ‘If you _really_ can’t remember, fine. I’m not passing up a chance to see you sulk again.’

‘I don't sulk,’ he says.

You give him a blank look. 

‘Right, because that pouty face you put on in the shower and the way you complained about me turning the tables on you weren’t sulky at all.’ 

You press a quick kiss to his lips before beginning to sit up. You’re glad that he doesn’t stop you from kissing him. You would be screwed if teasing him meant that you couldn’t kiss him.

Hal gets up quicker than you and you feel a wave of fatigue crash over you. The idea of climbing out of bed is, frankly, exhausting. Whether that’s just something to do with being tired or getting sick last night, you aren’t certain. As tempting as it is though, you can’t just stay in bed all day. You need a shower after puking last night anyway. 

You rub your eyes before reluctantly getting to your feet. It feels bad. You actually experience some dizziness for a moment when you stand up.

‘Hey, are you doing okay after last night?’ Hal asks.

‘I can’t say that I don’t feel like shit, but I can say that it’s not nearly as bad as last night. I’ll be alright.’

You comb a hand through your hair and shrug. You’ve definitely felt worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch me forever unsure where the sex scene starts and ends, but lets say it starts at, "you can admire Hal better when you aren’t on the verge of passing out" and finishes at "He moves to cuddle against your side"


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shower scene!

You regain your balance on your own despite Hal hovering close to you like he wants to actually carry you to the bathroom. You might be ... in something with Hal now, but you’re a little put off by that. Under normal circumstances, he probably wouldn’t do it. He’d likely mock you instead. Becoming accustomed to your new normal is going to be a total mind fuck.

‘I can walk, man. Promise,’ you say.

Nevertheless, you do end up taking his arm. Just so you can be close to him. And it kind of helps, but you’re going to ignore that for now. He’s warm and touching him is the perfect thing to do when you’re fresh out of bed and sex with him. 

‘We should try and figure out if the guy had something or if you're like ... allergic to B positive or something. And maybe do smaller but more frequent _meals_ , that's what works on normal sickness.’

‘I wouldn’t call it sickness. It’s like a shitty hangover that has its own personal brand of a headache. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.’ You don’t know about amping up the frequency of your little meals. Odds are that you and Hal would be in bed together more frequently as well. ‘Are vampire blood allergies a thing?’

You pull away from him just enough to flick the bathroom light on. Any amount of separation hurts, as stupid as it is.

You feel like you could lean against him and fall asleep. It’s not anything crippling enough that you think you’re going to pass out—spending time with vampires tends to help you learn when you’re reaching that point—but you are definitely feeling a little sleepy. The heat coming from Hal isn’t helping with that, but you sure as hell aren’t going to distance yourself from him. 

‘I have no idea, you're the first vampire I've met,’ he says. ‘I haven't seen anything online, but I haven't really made much of an effort to go darker than Reddit yet. I gotta assume there's better info out there.’

He turns the shower on, but just rubs your arms instead of getting in.

‘I know a couple,’ you inform him. Most of the vampires you’ve met were purely flings that you never saw again, but there’s some whose contact information you utilized when you weren’t in the mood to head to a bar or club in search of a stranger. When you were feeling more horny than self-destructive, that is. ‘And I’m pretty sure Rose is dating a vampire. Or they’re just ridiculously close. I can ask her.’

After you inform her of your situation. And everyone else. You’ve been pretty busy, but you haven’t made any efforts to contact any of your friends or family about this. You know that they wouldn’t treat you any differently, but you’re struggling to come up with a tactful method of breaking the news. At least they’re accustomed to you disappearing from chat clients and social media for long lengths of time. 

You’re quick to follow him into the shower when he steps in. You’re looking forward to being able to wash him again. If he lets you, that is, but you think he enjoyed it enough the first time that he won’t turn you down. You remember that you can ask him this. It’s easier to be more open about things now that the two of you have gotten your feelings out.

‘Can I wash your hair again?’

‘Go for it, dude,’ he says. 

He moves his head under the water and then nudges it into your shoulder. It’s probably one of the cutest things you’ve ever experienced. You can’t resist the urge to kiss the top of his head before you start running your fingers through his hair to get it wet. You’re glad he’s letting you do this. 

‘Cool, yeah, introduce me,’ he says, continuing your conversation as if it wasn’t interrupted. ‘It'd be good to get an actual reliable source from a real vampire. Not that you're not ... you know what I mean. I find you very impressive and scary.’

‘I was just going to text Rose and see if she could get any info from Kanaya.’ You also aren’t sure that you want Hal meeting any of your past flings. You don’t really want to go through the awkwardness of introducing ... whatever Hal is to you to a couple of guys that you’ve fucked around with before. That would be like inviting him to a hangout with Jake, except somehow slightly less mortifying. 

‘I can’t believe you don’t think I’m a real vampire, I’m clearly the most terrifying noob vampire on the block.’

‘Right, texting's a thing. Whatever works. Get some lessons on vamping it up while you're at it, maybe then I'll be properly intimidated.’

‘I don’t need lessons. I’m obviously intimidating as hell already. You’ve just been desensitized to my scariness. That tends to happen when you have sex multiple times with a human mosquito.’

You really hope that you and Hal make a habit of showering together. You have plenty of opportunities to touch him outside of the bathroom, and you’ve taken several of them, but you like both showers and Hal. You should have combined the two a long time ago. Being able to stay close to him and touch him like this is making your heart feel stupidly fluttery. 

He hums, like he can’t even muster up words to agree with you because he’s too relaxed under your hands. You grab the bottle of shampoo once his hair is wet enough and start washing his hair. He sighs gently.

‘Remember when you said you weren’t soft? You’re a fucking liar.’

He leans close into you, hands on your waist like an anchor. 

‘Okay, give me a minute, I can get hard again.’ He winks at you.

You can’t stop yourself from laughing for a moment. You take advantage of your position and flick him in the head. You keep it gentle though, of course. You don’t like the idea of hurting him at all, even if it’s in a very minor, stupid way. You go back to stroking shampoo through his hair, keeping it up a lot longer than you need to. You like how his hair feels in your hands.

You reluctantly guide him back under the water so you can start rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. He’s ridiculously good to look at like this. He looks completely content right now. If it felt as nice as it did for you when he washed your hair before, it must feel pretty nice for him too. You think you’d do almost anything to make him happy. 

‘You’re such a dumbass,’ you tell him. Your insults sound affectionate now. You can’t keep the fondness out of your voice. ‘I’m curious to see if you really can though.’

‘For real?’ he asks. ‘'Cause I'm pretty sure if you just let me scope out your ass for half a minute, I probably can. It's a superpower, dude. I'm getting so many more boners than I'm used to since ... this. I'm usually pretty chill.’

He kisses you on the neck as he moves closer to you, fully under the water.

You do your best to wipe the soap and water off of his face so that it doesn’t go into his eyes. Then you press a kiss to his cheek because you can. You’re allowed to plant kisses all over him now, wherever and whenever you want. You don’t have to make up excuses for yourself for it or keep it something exclusive to sex. You probably shouldn’t have this much power. You are definitely going to be kissing him a lot from now on. 

‘Sure,’ you say, shrugging. ‘I don’t think popping boners like a teenage boy qualifies as a superpower though. You’re just really fucking horny. Besides, that would be the shittiest superpower ever. What would your name even be?’

You don’t often turn down the opportunity to have sex. You’re definitely not going to do so with Hal. Unless you feel like shit, that is, but you’re only a little tired right now. 

You kiss the shell of his ear, followed by his jaw. You two are never going to get anything done if you keep fucking like rabbits, but somehow you’re not bothered by that. He catches your lips with your own.

‘Rocket Man,’ he says against your lips. ‘And I think it's gonna be a long long time. Like I'm gonna last long, not that there's gonna be ages between—’ 

You pull back enough to give him a look.

‘Oh my god. You are such a fucking dork. You know that, right? You act like hot shit but you are literally the dorkiest person I have ever met. And that is a _terrible_ name for a superhero with boner powers, holy fuck.’

You’re just going to have to get used to him grabbing your ass. You think you already kind of are. You pepper kisses down his neck before finding a spot to nip with your teeth. You wrap your arms around his waist and wish that you could pull him closer even though you’re already touching.

You’re more than happy to leave a few hickeys on his neck when he moves his head back. His neck is probably one of your favourite parts of him. And his face. And his body. You think you just like all of him. You like him too much to pick your favourite things about him. 

‘Could'a said Yoghurt Slinger, thought I'd go classy,’ he says. ‘If I come up with a really bad name for my bonersona are you gonna call off shower sex? What am I risking here?’

He says so much stupid shit but it makes your heart ache anyway. You don’t think you can genuinely be mad at him, especially not over something as dumb as bad superhero names. You kiss his collarbone and bite it. 

‘Jesus Christ. Yeah, I think that’s a very real possibility. I might just call off shower sex because of you saying bonersona. I don’t think I’ll be able to look at you and think about sex ever again because I’ll constantly be reminded of this conversation.’

He laughs and it’s utterly intoxicating. You can’t believe that you’ve spent so much of your time bickering with him rather than trying to get him to laugh more often. It’s a sound that needs to be heard, and you don’t think he does it frequently enough anyway. You stroke through his hair as you lean into his almost forceful kiss, nipping his lip once you can no longer suppress the urge. 

‘You liar,’ he says. ‘Wonder how far I could push you and still get you moaning for me. Super disappointing that I haven't been able to trigger some proper post-fuck remorse in you so far.’

‘You want me to regret it?’ you ask. He knows that you can take his bullshit, and in a lot bigger quantities than this. He also probably knows that you like this too much to stop over something dumb. ‘Keep it up with the bonersona talk and I just might.’

You begin to slide your hand down the length of his body. You cup his ass because you can and because he’s grabbed yours way more. You knead your fingers into it and tilt your head to kiss him deeper, your tongue darting out to glide across his lips.

There aren’t a lot of people that you have an advantage with as far as height goes. There isn’t much of a huge difference between your height and Hal’s, but it’s enough to make it noticeable that he has to rise up on his toes to get on the same level as you. That’s fucking adorable. It gives you the urge to hug the hell out of him and pepper as many kisses as you can on his face, but you don’t. You aren’t supposed to be acting cuddly right now. Right now is reserved for the absolutely fun things you’re getting up to in the shower. 

His body is pressing against your own in all the right ways. You think you could get hard from a mere poke alone. You’re all for dragging your tongue against Hal’s while he has it in your mouth, but then he breaks the kiss long enough to say bullshit that’s so bullshitty he should have his own brand of bullshit. You feel like he already does. 

‘Please, I might as well not bother,’ he says. ‘No matter what I say, you'll still get on your knees for me.’ 

That grin of his is both hot and downright infuriating. It’s unfair that he can do this to you. You peck him on the lips before turning to grab the bar of soap. 

‘No sex going on here, then.’ You wonder how he’ll react, if he’s going to get pissy or refuse to back down. Or both. You kind of hope it’s both. ‘Just two dudes taking a purely platonic shower. Do you think you can turn around so I can wash your back?’

You wonder how he’ll react, if he’s going to get pissy or refuse to back down. Or both. You kind of hope it’s both. He actually huffs. 

‘Yeah, because Plato's idea of keeping shit intellectual is totally compatible with homo-erotic showers. Actually, now that I think of it, it was Ancient Greece, it probably is.’

He naturally doesn’t turn around for you. You’re not sure what else you expected. You choose to wash what you can reach of him, then. You definitely don’t think about his skin under your hands. 

It’s hard to keep yourself from looking horny as hell when he’s so close to you. You firmly believe that you can do this though. You are _not_ going to give him what he wants. Not for a while, at least. You want to see how far you can push him. 

‘Don’t bitch at me for not being thorough because you’re busy being a jackass. I told you I’d call off shower sex. It’s not coming back. You blew it, bro.’

You think that you’re managing to make him worry about whether you’re bullshitting him or not. As much as you like having sex with him, you’re interested in pushing this further. And it’s not like you’re _actually_ calling off shower sex. You’re not an idiot. You are competitive though, and your current goal is to make Hal break before you. 

‘You're not serious,’ he says. ‘You've got “please, dear God, someone use a firm hand on me” practically written on your forehead in permanent marker. Don't pretend like I couldn't get you to call me “daddy” with minimal effort.’

Damn, he’s got you pretty good there though. Are you really that transparent when it comes to sex? Or is it just with him? You grimace at his comment. He’s not totally _wrong,_ but still. 

He grabs your hand as you clean him and holds you firmly. You raise your eyebrows and pause momentarily. Your first instinct is to just leave it there, to let him have it and continue washing him as best as you can with your free hand. 

‘I am being completely serious. Shower sex is done for, Hal. Consider this a lesson in learning that your actions have consequences.’

But after thinking for a few moments, you decide that that can go fuck itself. You keep eye contact with him as you pull your hand back hard enough to make him lose his grip on you. You go back to washing him as if he never even grabbed your hand. 

‘Completely off the table? Even if I ask nicely?’

You spend much longer than you need to pretending that you’re contemplating his question. You already know your answer. You’re just trying to make him squirm, and you think you can safely assume from his behavior that it’s working. 

He touches his hands to your hips, looking up at you with more uncertainty than you were expecting to get out of him.

‘Maybe not, but you’ll have to do it a few times. Even then I can’t say that I’m certain. You ruined the mood, man. I was so ready to jump your dick, but your cocky bonersona talk was too much.’ You’re bullshitting him, of course. It takes a lot to ruin the mood for you. He’d have to do something particularly stupid in order to manage that. 

You press a kiss to his jaw, followed by the shell of his ear, but you don’t go farther than that. You wonder how long it would take to drive him crazy with kisses alone. You don’t attempt to pull away from him. You think you’ll at least let him touch you. The fact that you like it when he touches you has nothing to do with that decision.

You’re tempted to keep it up. You’d love to kiss all over his neck and leave a few marks on it along the way, but you’ll have to resist that for now. The only problem is that resisting is harder than giving in, and you have to remind yourself that the payoff will be better if you avoid giving in at the drop of a hat. 

‘I'm not exactly good at asking nicely,’ he says. ‘I could bargain with you instead. I have a lot to offer, you know. My dick, for instance.’ He kisses you gently down the throat and onto your collarbone. ‘Or my tongue,’ he continues, reaching the top of your chest.

Fuck, that’s tempting. And kind of hot. You like his dick a lot. You’re going to have to stop thinking about this dick if you’re going to get anywhere with this. Shit, he’s got his lips on you, and he’s moving lower with each kiss he presses to your skin. This is really turning you on. You reach down to cup his chin, a gesture that you hope will keep him from continuing downward. You’re done for if he gets on his knees for you.

‘I’m not up for bargaining. This can be a learning experience. I believe you could use some practice in asking nicely.’ He’s still in your hand. You think your heart just about kicks it right then and there. You assumed he would pull away and go back to what he was doing or some variation of that, but he’s doing the exact opposite. You stroke along his jaw. ‘I was considering offering my tongue for you, you know. If you could ask nicely.’

He stands up straight again and you have to resist the urge to kiss him. 

‘Please,’ he begs. ‘Dirk, please. I'll ... I'll be good.’

You thought this would take a lot more time and energy, and you think you’re blushing just because of how much you love him. He kisses your neck and wraps his arms around you. 

You tip your head to the side to give him more room on your neck. You manage to put the soap aside for now without moving from your position too much. You don’t want to be holding anything other than him. You love his attention on your neck, but you move your head to catch his lips with your own. You want nothing more than to kiss him. You cup his cheek gently and stroke your thumb over his cheekbone.

‘You’re so fucking good, holy shit,’ you tell him.

His lips feel so good against yours. You think you would gladly give up everything just to be able to kiss him whenever you want. You run your fingers through his hair before letting your hand move down his body until you can play with his nipples. 

His cock grinding against your own sends a shudder down your spine. You roll the bud of his nipple between your fingers, and you take the liberty of pinching and squeezing it whenever he seems too quiet. His hands are strong and needy on your back.

You run your tongue along his before nipping at his lower lip. You don’t want to ever stop kissing him, but you’re really aching to start moving down his body. You kiss at the corner of his lips and make your way to his jaw, and after you’re done peppering kisses over it you begin biting and sucking at his neck.

‘You’re fucking amazing,’ you murmur against his skin.

Every noise you coax out of him has you wanting to keep working at his neck for hours. You wonder if you could push him over the edge just by paying attention to his neck alone. Now that you’re a vampire, you have an unfair advantage as far as biting goes, and you’re eager to see the results of sinking your fangs into him at the right moment. You haven’t been disappointed once by biting him during sex.

Of course, you’ve already made up your mind about what you want to do with him. You’ll just have to save the idea for another time. For now, you make your slow descent to his collarbone. You’re going to kiss down the length of his body until you reach his cock, and you’re going to leave behind as many marks as possible. 

Hal catches you off guard before you can do that. 

_‘Fuck,’_ he says. ‘Work with me.’

That’s all the warning you get before he picks you up. You make an embarrassing noise as he presses you against the wall, and you hope that he spares you and doesn’t acknowledge it. You want to be pissed at him for this, but instead you find yourself turned on as hell. You’re still going to pretend that it’s the other way around.

‘Put me down, asshole.’

The more you fuck around with him, the more apparent it becomes that you are incredibly weak for him. His hand stroking over your skin has you fighting to suppress a shudder. You are _not_ going to slip into the role of the needy submissive just because he pinned you when you weren't paying attention. You can't believe you had him right under your thumb and lost him.

His fingers edge over your ass, closer to your holes. He's going to drive you insane with the way he's teasing you. You want to push him away and suck his dick like you were planning on doing but you also want to grab his wrist and make him touch you where you need him too. You would attempt to wriggle out of his hold if it didn't mean risking the possibility of busting your ass.

You roll your eyes when he kisses you under the jaw and immediately amp up the intensity of your glare.

‘We need a safeword,’ he says. ‘You know, seeing as I get off on doing basically the opposite of what you tell me to. Tell me I'm a god and I'll back right off.’

Your face becomes several degrees hotter and you have to fight back the urge to slap the smirk off of his face at his offer.

 _’Fuck_ you.’

‘I need that in a full sentence, by the way,’ he says, finally touching you where you want him. It’s not enough. You close your eyes and bite your lip when he grinds against you, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a single noise. 

‘Obviously you'll be calling out to God. I need you to say, “You're a god, Hal.” Try not to say it accidentally, even though I know you already think that of me.’

How the hell does he manage to be so insufferable? All while teasing you with his stupid, sexy fingers and voice. 

‘Again, fuck you,’ you tell him, your voice firm and dripping with bitterness. ‘I’m never fucking saying that. Do you like wasting your time by trying to get me to spout the dumbest shit you can think of?’

You can’t stand this. Your only realistic options here are to let this continue or ruin the mood entirely by sending yourself tumbling out of his arms. You would fight him off if you could do it without embarrassing yourself. Being pinned against the wall and unable to do anything about it is turning you on beyond belief, and that only frustrates you more. 

You groan as he bites you, only for your breath to hitch and a whine to form on your lips as he pushes his fingers into you. You press down and cover your mouth, trying to preserve some shred of dignity.

It’s hard to continue glaring at him when he’s got his fingers in you, and it’s even harder to stay angry. You’re going to, though, because you’re pissed at him for turning the tables, especially since he did it so easily. You’re even more pissed at yourself though. Why would you ever let your guard down? 

You are struggling immensely with staying quiet throughout this. You can’t keep yourself from grinding back against him to the best of your ability, and the way his teeth are digging into your neck has goosebumps rising on your skin. You’re moaning into your hand as he works his fingers in and out of you, and you have to make a conscious effort to avoid saying his name. 

You grip his hair tightly with your free hand. You need something fo anchor yourself. It’s too much and too little at the same time, and you have to bite your tongue against telling him that you want him to fuck you into the wall.

‘Mmm,’ he hums. ‘Gonna make you call me all kinds of nice names. King, maybe. Stallion. Lovebunny.’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ you grumble, swatting the back of his head. ‘I’m never calling you any of those and you know it.’

Somehow, his laugh is still fucking endearing even when you’re mad at him. Are you _genuinely_ pissed at him for doing this? No, not really. It still feels like it regardless, and you are not going to give into him so easily after managing to break him down enough to get him to beg. 

‘Of course not, because then I'd stop,’ he says. ‘And you want me way too bad for that. Lucky I'm a generous bastard.’

He’s lucky that looks can’t kill. 

‘I’m not fucking saying it because it’s stupid bullshit. You’re a goddamn asshole,’ you say through clenched teeth. ‘You won’t stop anyway; you’re too far gone for that.’

You feel painfully empty when he pulls his fingers out of you. He’s quick to replace them with his dick though, and you find yourself clinging to him while your breath hitches. You clutch his shoulder tightly and dig your nails into his skin while you tug at his hair with your free hand. It’s a challenge to keep yourself from pulling so hard that you scalp him. You bite your lip hard enough that it feels like it might bleed and take relief in the fact that you aren’t the only one groaning.

 _‘Fuck,’_ he gasps.

It’s difficult to maintain a glare with Hal’s dick in you, and it only becomes increasingly difficult as he begins thrusting into you. You’re thoroughly convinced that his cock has to be something divine because _holy fuck_ that feels good. You’re still disappointed that you didn’t get to feel it in your mouth instead, but that disappointment is quickly fading away.

You’re moaning rather loudly despite your efforts to keel yourself quiet, so you decide to occupy your mouth with something else. Leaving fresh marks on Hal’s neck is a pastime that you’ve come to enjoy immensely. At least you can muffle your noises against his skin. 

‘Yeah, you know it,’ he groans. It takes you a second to realise he’s replying to what you said before. ‘Jesus fuck, might never put you down. Steal you and just use you when I want, all the time, fucking hell, Dirk, you feel so good.’

You hate that he says stupid hot shit like this when you’re supposed to be acting like you’re mad at him. The idea of him just keeping you and fucking you as he pleases is... yeah. You’re so fucked.

‘Seems like a lot of responsibility,’ you breathe.

‘Worth it,’ he says. ‘Keep you just for me. Fuck you so hard and so well you can't think to run away from me.’

You really can’t believe that you have lived this long with Hal and you’ve only recently started having sex with him. He’s better than any of the strangers you shacked up with. It’s difficult in this position, but you roll your hips downward to meet each thrust that he levels at you. You swear that each one is harder than the last. 

You lean your head against the wall and reach down to start stroking yourself. Your fingers are clumsy and shaky because he’s got you falling to pieces in his arms, but you can’t bring yourself to be upset about this. You grip his hair hard with your free hand and whimper as he sucks on your nipple.

The feeling of his teeth pressing down on your nipple has you jolting, but in a really, _really_ good way. You think you could die happily as long as you got to feel his teeth sinking into you one last time. He’s hotter than hell like this, throwing whatever he has at you to break you apart and breathless at the same time. 

You think you have officially reached the point where you can no longer act like you’re pissed off at him, but it’s hard to care about that when he’s fucking you like this. You’re gripping his hips a bit too tightly with your legs, but you’re on the verge of seeing stars because of him. You wouldn’t be able to lighten up your hold on him even if you tried. 

‘Fuck, Dirk,’ he gasps. ‘Feel so good, fuck.’

You want to lean forward and kiss him, but you’re worried you would throw off the balance you’ve got going on. Instead, you let go of his hair and cup his cheek so you can pull him to you. He works with you, adjusting so you can kiss him.

‘Hal,’ you moan against his lips, and you’re almost as breathless as he is, how is that even possible? ‘Hal, I’m close, fuck.’

You bite his lower lip before pushing your tongue into his mouth. You’re really shaking now. You can feel your orgasm about to hit you, and something gives you the impression that it’s going to wipe you out completely.

He pants against your face as his hand slides from your back down to your ass. You’re so fucking close, and almost the second his fingertip touches to your asshole it just pushes you over the edge, hitting you like a bullet in the back. You cling to him as it rushes through you. 

You think that it lasts longer than any orgasm you’ve had before, and every time you think you’re going to come down you start going up again. It’s almost like having vampire venom pumped into your system, and you’re wondering why you ever wanted to fight him on this.

Hal puts you down and you are not at all ready to be standing. You don’t think he’s in any condition to be standing either, and you’re thankful for the fact that you can hold onto him and lean against the shower wall at the same time. Your legs feel like they’ve been turned into jelly, and somehow you’re less upset with this outcome than you should be. You’re not upset at all, surprisingly. You really wish you didn’t like him fucking you this much. 

You press your forehead against Hal’s shoulder and try to focus on catching your breath. He’s turned you into a goddamn mess.

‘You’re a dickhead,’ you tell him as you press a kiss to his shoulder. You think you can feel the water getting cold. Or maybe you’re just interpreting things incorrectly. You can’t tell at all right now.

‘Yeah,’ he pants. ‘I'm fun, though. I'll let you top next time, promise. Unless I'm being a dick. Or if you're being irresistible. I'm only so strong, and you're making a habit of seducing me.’

You are such a sucker for him that it’s pathetic. You’re more than happy to get in on this close contact action with him, which is entirely unsurprising. He’s so warm, and you don’t think you’ll ever get over how pleasant his skin feels against your own. It’s almost laughable how easily you melt for him.

‘Mhm,’ you hum. You hope that sounded sarcastic. You aren’t sure how sarcastic you can make a noise sound. ‘Considering that you are always being a dick, I don’t think I can trust that promise. And I don’t seem to have to do anything to “seduce” you. I’m thinking the issue is something on your end, not mine.’

You close your eyes. Just for a few moments. God, he’s good. You should be getting yourself washed right now, but you don’t want to move away from him. You wrap your arm around his waist and kiss his temple. You manage to get your free hand in his hair and relish the feeling of his wet locks between your fingers.

‘That's true,’ he says. ‘You're seducing me right now. And anytime I see you. I'm going to have to hide you away or wear blinkers or something if I ever want to make it more than twenty minutes without attacking you.’

Your showers are usually long, but your water bill is seriously going to be suffering if you make a habit of showering with him. You don’t know how long you’ve spent in here with him already, but you know that you aren’t willing at all to leave unless you can still be this close to him once you finally step out. You love him. You love being with him and talking to him, and you love being close to him. You even love him when he’s being a dick and turning the tables on you, which is saying something. 

‘Fuck. Seems like you’ve got the complete opposite of erectile dysfunction.’ You press a kiss to his jaw and just let yourself stay there for a few moments. You could keep your lips on his skin forever, you think. There’s something so satisfying about kissing him. ‘I would be worried if I wasn’t totally fine with it. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much sex in such a short period of time, and I made a habit of whoring myself out.’

‘God, same,’ he laughs. ‘This is fucking relentless, I've never been like this. You've cursed my dick with erectile function. Extra function. Mega function. It's like a powerup in a video game except instead of invulnerability I've just regressed from critical thought in favour of your ass.’

You rub circles into the small of his back while you massage his scalp gently with your fingers. You figure you owe it to him for all the hair pulling you’ve been doing. You never want to leave this, to leave him. 

He turns the tap off and you guess that it had to happen eventually. You still kind of want to grumble. You definitely want to have a bath with him sometime. You brush his hair back and away from his face and wrap your arm around his shoulders. You wonder if he would let you dry him.

‘So we essentially have some on brand bimbofication happening here.’ he says. ‘We have regressed into a shitty, poorly written fanfic, Hal. We’re doomed to spend the rest of our days mindlessly fucking like rabbits. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think the venom would give us this type of outcome.’

‘And we're not even lesbian lawyers,’ he sighs. ‘Oh well, nothing to do but accept our fate. I'm pretty sure you should be preying on me, Drac.’

‘Do me a favor and never call me that again, okay?’ you say, grimacing.

He puts a towel over your head and promptly gets to work on making your hair into a pure mess. You know that this is part of drying hair with a towel, but you have the feeling that Hal isn’t above doing this for the sole point of fucking your hair up. You’re about to complain when he kisses you, and you find that the urge to bitch about your hair vanishes entirely. 

You kiss him back and pull his towel over his head so you can dry his hair. You keep your hands slow and gentle instead of drying his hair as quickly as possible like you usually dry yours. 

‘We should totally go back to bed,’ you tell him. You’re definitely a bad influence on him as far as productivity goes, but you feel like you could actually fall asleep if you tried. 

He’s just smiling at you, like he _loves_ the way you’re dragging your fingers through the towel to dry his hair and it’s absolutely adorable. It makes you want to dry his hair much longer than necessary, but you manage to resist that urge and stop when his hair is messy and not dripping water. You drape the towel around his shoulders and press your forehead against one of them. 

‘And you say I'm the one who can't get enough of you! Yes, you should. I, however, have work to do. What if I took my laptop to bed, could you sleep with the sound of my typing? I'll be your human hot water bottle.’

‘Hey, all I did was suggest that we should go back to bed. I didn’t say anything about not getting enough of you. I would just prefer you to be there with me.’ Christ, that’s sappy as hell. You need to fix that. ‘You’re like a heated blanket and I’m permanently experiencing hypothermia. You can’t just let a guy get frostbite.’

He hugs you in a way that doesn’t really do much to dry you. You think you might be prone to falling for dorks. Hal’s a snarky son of a bitch, but the layers covering his dorky qualities are rather thin. He’s so fucking affectionate. It pairs _very_ well with your clingy behavior (you are definitely trying to keep that buried; you don’t want to ruin this). You aren’t quite as worried about overwhelming him as you would be with anyone else. 

His suggestion isn’t a bad one, anyway. You mostly just want him there with you. 

‘Alright, fine. Are you actually going to do work or are you going to fuck off halfway through your responsibilities and play Minecraft?’

‘Usually the Minecraft one.’ You don’t think he’s ever dried another person off in his life, but that’s okay. He’s mostly just patting you. You’re more interested in cuddling into him, and he isn’t bitching about your failure to rub him down with his towel. ‘But I'm pretty sure Sollux only hasn't come over to kick my ass for not pulling my weight because he can't do that and stay in his bedroom at the same time.’

‘You’re both hermits. I still can’t believe you went to the store last night. That was a bold move for you,’ you tease. 

He flips you off. You impressively don’t tell him that you love him.

You give him a light nudge and grumble to yourself as he pulls you with him to his room. He starts getting dressed, and although it’s tempting to crawl into his bed with nothing on you, you think you should go ahead and pull something comfortable on.

You do worry about how much of this is real and how much is influenced by vampire bullshit. You keep thinking about the slave guide Hal left on your door, not to mention the whole slave stereotype as a whole. If it’s a stereotype. You really don’t know, and you’re scared shitless of the possibility that what you have with Hal is simply a result of feeding on him regularly.

You decide to put it out of your mind for now. You’re definitely going to think about it, but you’re not in any danger of forgetting about it and right now you have a guy who likes you to cuddle up with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of those nebulous, ease-into-it sex scenes that's hard to put definitions on but I'd guess? it starts with, "You aren’t supposed to be acting cuddly right now" and ends at, "You press your forehead against Hal’s shoulder and try to focus on catching your breath."


	14. Chapter 14

You take Hal’s towel from him and place it over your own so you can dispose of them on the way to your bedroom.

‘I’m gonna go grab some clothes,’ you tell him. You also peck him on the lips before you turn to leave his room.

‘Aw,’ Hal says. 

He’s going to have to stop being so cute all the time or you’re going to end up gushing over him 24/7. He wants you around even when you aren’t going to be away for more than a few minutes. You’re the same exact way with him. It’s really going to suck when you have to get your shit together and start doing things outside of the apartment again.

‘I’ll be in the kitchen,’ Hal says.

It’s cute that he tells you where he’s going to be too. He didn’t have to do that. You push your Hal specific thoughts out of your head so you can get dressed instead of standing around and thinking about how much you love him. You pull on a long sleeve shirt as opposed to your typical tank. You don’t normally wear shirts with long sleeves to lounge around in, but you’re still feeling colder than usual.

After getting your sweats and socks on, you spend a few moments staring at your phone. All but disappearing entirely for the past few days has resulted in a metric shit tonne of messages from Dave, Roxy, and everyone else. You need to get your shit sorted.

You pocket your phone for now and head to the kitchen. Hal hasn’t eaten in a while, now that you think about it. You were never great at remembering meals before you turned, but now it’s probably a million times worse. You wrap your arms around Hal from behind and rest your chin on his shoulder. There’s more in the pantry than there was, but Hal is not as good at shopping as you are. You decide not to point that out.

‘Staring at food isn’t the same as eating it, you know.’

You’re not gonna lie, you were kind of worried that you would scare the hell out of him by coming up and hugging him from behind, but you didn’t. He’s leaning back against you, which is a really good sign that you didn’t fuck up. You think you’ll count this as a personal win.

He holds your arm to his waist as he grabs bread and then moves to the fridge. You almost stumble, but you’re fucking great at always being ready for anything. 

… Okay, so you do stumble, but at least you don’t fall.

‘I was considering,’ he says.

‘Mhm, sure,’ you tease him.

He throws the bread behind you so his hands are free. He grabs eggs and bacon.

‘I made a meal plan, but I think I need to set alarms until I get used to the nocturnal thing,’ he says.

‘You know you don’t need to switch to being nocturnal because of me, right?’ you say, frowning. ‘You’re still human. You may be a reclusive bastard, but you might regret ditching the diurnal lifestyle. And I don’t want to be the reason you rearrange your sleeping schedule.’

‘Let me go,’ he says. You definitely don’t pout against his shoulder. 

‘You’re _holding_ me here, dipshit,’ you mumble.

Before you can continue, he’s turning around and kissing you. You reciprocate instantly. This is counterproductive as fuck in terms of getting you to move away. He’s a dumbass and you love him.

He pushes you gently away. You miss his lips already, which is stupid as fuck. The smile he gives you makes up for it though. You should have started trying to make him smile a long time ago. He smiled before all of this, but that was closer to a particularly taunting smirk that he used when he was antagonizing you. Or when you were antagonizing him. You tend to do that to each other a lot.

He gets out a pan and arranges everything with a particularness you’re very used to from him. It’s not like you’ve made a habit of watching the little idiosyncracies of your roommate, but you couldn’t help but pick shit up. Somehow, loving him now, you think you’d watch the way he ties his shoes with unreasonable fondness.

‘I'm still going to have to get some sun, vitamin D and all that. I might grab some supplements at some point, which I probably should be on anyway. I'm _not_ a hermit, but ... like I don't see a lot of sun as it is.’

You have a feeling that you’re doing a very poor job of hiding how much you think that him switching up his sleeping schedule is a stupid idea.

‘You’re a total hermit. I’ve lived with you long enough to figure that out, trust me.’ You lean against the counter. ‘Don’t you think that becoming nocturnal because your roommate went and got bitten sounds fucking stupid? Because I think it sounds fucking stupid. Selflessly fucking stupid.’ You appreciate that he wants to be around you. You want to be around him. You can understand his reasoning behind this, but it isn’t healthy. ‘This is like if I decided to be diurnal again, except less fatal. I’m gonna go diurnal, Hal. You’re just going to have to accept it.’

‘Okay, come on. People sleep in the day sometimes, I've come pretty close to nocturnalness in the past already, it won't _hurt_ me.’ 

Oh, he definitely doesn’t like that. You’re aware that Hal going nocturnal wouldn’t be nearly as hazardous as you going diurnal, but you felt like the comparison needed to be made. It would be stupid for you to go back to doing everything during the day. It’s stupid of him to think that he should become a night owl for your sake. You’re sure you can work something out that doesn’t involve him trading the sunlight for you.

‘Yeah, _sometimes_. The only people that stick to nights are people who have to for shitty jobs. And fucking weirdos. I know you’re weird—you don’t have to remind me—but is this really necessary?’ You tap your fingers against your arm. ‘It might not hurt you _physically_ , but that doesn’t make it healthy.’

He holds his hands up in surrender, his face softer and less confrontational. 

‘I take your point. I don't need to adjust my schedule by quite that much.’

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. You’re accustomed to going around in circles for hours with him during arguments, not this. It’s not unpleasant. Half his attention is on cooking, but not in a bad way. More like he isn’t making this into a huge, bacon-burning, scream the house down deal. 

‘Just because I can’t go out in the sunlight anymore doesn’t mean you should give it up,’ you tell him, your voice soft. He isn’t going as hard as he could with this, so neither will you.

‘I'd rather—’ he says, before stopping mid-thought and taking a breath.

You stare at him expectantly, but he doesn’t continue from where he left off. You doubt you would have liked what he was about to say. You’re flattered that he wants to be around you as much as possible, and it isn’t like the feeling isn't mutual. You’re being a bit of a hypocrite, honestly, because you wouldn’t put it past yourself to do something like this, but it’s not healthy and he shouldn’t have to do it in the first place.

‘Okay, so I probably don't go to sleep until like 1am most nights anyway. We haven't exactly instituted a bedtime or whatever for you but sunrise is just after 7am right now, right? And I don't need 10 hours sleep or however long it is the sun's up.’

You assume that you’re looking fairly unimpressed with him at the moment because he chooses to alter his suggestion when he looks back at you from his pan of bacon and eggs.

‘So if I was to stay up til 5? 4? I'd still get afternoons.’

You tap your fingers against the counter, thinking. You would prefer that he didn’t change his schedule at all, but you don’t think you can get out of this without compromising. Additionally, you do want to see him. You just wish shit could be normal. Most couples don’t have to work these things out. If that’s what you two are. You need to discuss that too, but just the thought of it makes you anxious.

‘Fine,’ you say, sighing. ‘I still think that it’s a stupid idea.’ You’re kind of fighting the urge to leave the kitchen. The smell of his food is somewhat nauseating. ‘And if you seem like you can’t handle it, I would really rather that you stick to the diurnal life.’

‘I'm sure you'll let me know if I start to lose my shit.’ 

‘Oh, you can count on it,’ you say. 

He leans in to kiss you once—no, twice, _sweet_ —and you start thinking that if this is what you get for having mature discussions with him, you should definitely consider doing it more often. You two didn’t even attempt to genuinely insult each other. You suppose that being smitten prevents you from being a complete asshole.

You have to force yourself to stay still instead of following him for a third kiss. The smell of his food helps keep you from acting on that desire. It isn’t disgusting, but it’s unpleasant in a way that makes your stomach turn uncomfortably. Clearly it smells good to Hal, he’s looking impatient as hell, so it’s a you thing. Despite this, you’re still curious about what would happen if you ate something. 

You briefly consider experimenting with what’s right in front of you, but Hal needs it more than you by a long shot. You’ll refrain from picking at his food. Besides, if you’re going to make yourself sick eating something, you might as well make it something you like. Eggs and bacon are ... eh. Not terrible, but not your first choice. Maybe you should go lighter anyway, knock back something liquid to test yourself.

‘What do you think would happen if I drank a glass of orange juice?’ you ask, watching him flip the food onto a plate.

You grimace a bit as he douses his food with ketchup, but you don’t say anything. If you poke at him for this, he’ll lay into you for eating pizza with a knife and fork, or the fact that you could eat almost anything with ranch on it. Fuck, you literally drink blood now. You can’t believe that you’re officially the weird one when it comes to food because of vampirism. You are _not_ going to point that out to him.

‘I dunno. Spew like in one of those dumb comedies?’

‘Sounds hot,’ you say sarcastically.

He pours himself a glass and you have to remember that you’re pretty sure you drank it straight from the carton the last time you had it. You’re not going to mention it to him. Considering you’ve swapped spit multiple times now, he has no room to bitch. Plus, you’ve done weirder things while half-asleep. He takes a drink of the orange juice and you wonder if eating in front of vampires counts as some weird kind of oppression.

‘Maybe start with a sip,’ he says. ‘Or …’

You raise an eyebrow as he approaches you, and at first you’re worried that he’s going to spit a mouthful of orange juice between your lips. He kisses you and you’re relieved to discover that he swallowed first. The taste of orange juice on his tongue is strong, but it isn’t bad. It doesn’t make you feel like up chucking on the spot, and you ponder if you can still eat and drink like a normal person as long as you keep the quantities small. That, of course, is also dependent upon what large quantities do to you.

You wrap your arm around his shoulders and rest your free hand on his side. You pull back from the kiss to speak. And to nip his bottom lip. 

‘Not exactly what I had in mind, but I’m not detecting any disastrous consequences,’ you say.

He kisses you again, standing on tiptoe and you get the urge to stand on your own toes just to make things harder for him. You’ve picked up on how he tries to match your height at times and you think that it is painfully cute. He kisses you a third time and you’re about to nudge him back to his breakfast when he pulls away on his own.

‘Did it taste different or anything?’ 

You watch him and shrug your shoulders. You’re admittedly somewhat worried. About him, not the orange juice. He likes kissing you and you’re always happy to oblige, but you two struggle to stay away from each other. You push your anxiety over the issue down for the time being and answer his question.

‘I’m not sure that I can accurately judge the taste of your orange juice residue, but I don’t think so. I’ll have to test out a full glass at some point.’

You’re beginning to consider going to his room. You did say that you were going to sleep for a while. You’re not used to sleeping this much. It’s _weird_. Hal holds out a tiny bit of bacon to you and you eye it with reluctant curiosity.

‘You know I’m not a big fan of bacon,’ you say. You take it anyway and pop it into your mouth.

You aren’t certain that the flavor is impacted or not. Again, you don’t like bacon in the first place, so it all tastes like shit to you no matter what. You aren’t sure if it’s the smell that’s been bugging you since Hal started cooking or the taste, but you think you could puke. You aren’t going to, the urge isn’t that strong, but it’s a possibility if you push it.

‘Which is easier to justify now, but still insane,’ Hal says.

You stare at him blankly, like you can channel just how stupid that entire argument was through your expression alone. 

‘It’s not insane. I just never liked it that much.’

‘Fuck, I can't remember the rest of my argument for that one, it was really good, too. Did I tell you it makes you smarter because pigs are smart, and obviously you need all the help you can get? I think it was that ridiculous, but I can't remember if it was exactly that.’

‘Something like that,’ you nod. ‘ And I think I remember telling you that it was charred shit and that you could stick it up your ass if you loved it so much.’

You think you eventually got sick of arguing over that topic and left the apartment entirely. You could have gone to your room, but you recall that you just wanted to be as far away from him as possible. To be fair, you’ve gotten pissy with him over a lot of stupid shit. It’s odd to think that you two fought over so many things and now you can’t even stay away from each other. 

‘I believe bacon tastes just as gross as I remember. Or at least that tiny ass piece did.’

You could try his eggs but... nah. You like eggs. Or did. You’re just weirdly picky about them, and thinking too much about them makes you sick. He also has ketchup all over his plate like an idiot. You can’t believe you’re thinking that affectionately.

‘I should eat garlic.’

‘Raw?’ he asks. ‘'Cause I don't know if I'd react all that well to that either.’

‘Oh, absolutely. I think the best way to test this out would be to bite straight into the bulb.’ 

You would definitely try it. He has a point though. If you eat a chunk of raw garlic, you’ll probably feel sick as hell, which doesn’t exactly make it easy to figure out whether you can consume it without becoming ill or otherwise. You really want to know the science behind the garlic myth (if it’s a myth).

You’re pretty sure you make a face when he drags his finger across his plate to coat it with the yolk and sauce that’s left over. You quickly get rid of it. For the most part. You think you still look a little disgusted.

‘Yolk is the nastiest shit,’ he says. ‘How can you eat that?’

You are uncomfortably aware of the fact that you can’t prevent yourself from reacting when he dips his head to lick the yolk right from the plate. You can feel your face twisting into a thoroughly grossed out expression while Hal torments you. He’s such an asshole. First he chooses to make eggs with the yolk still runny, then he douses his food in a tsunami of ketchup, and now he’s just doing his best to be a bastard. You should be able to fall out of love with him over his preferred style of eggs, but you know by now that you’re really fucking smitten for him. Even nasty food choices won’t shake that feeling.

‘You eat my blood and I act like this,’ he says, grinning in that very familiar Hal way that means he _knows_ he’s getting to you. ‘Is that better or worse than liking someone who acts like this?’ 

That stupid grin makes you want to kiss him and slap him at the same time. Not hard, of course. He is way too skilled at pulling the best expressions to fuck with you and you hate it. 

‘Do you seriously expect me to answer that when you’re slurping up yolk like some kind of feral animal? I’m going to throw my guts up all over the floor and it’s going to be your fault.’

He dumps his plate in the sink, without even rinsing it, the fucking monster, but you decide not to bitch when it means he comes into your arms quicker.

‘I can make something garlicky for dinner. Like straight up garlic butter noodles, and if it bothers you I guess I'll have to brush my teeth forever.’

‘Do you really want to cook a legitimate meal just to test whether or not I’ll puke it up?’ you ask. It’s kind of sweet, really, in a weird, fucked up way that he’s basically offering to cook dinner for you. It’s just dinner that may or may not have adverse effects on your health.

He does have to eat, and maybe this is a good way to get him to prioritize that more. You think this is the first real meal you’ve witnessed him eat for a while. 

‘Of course I'll cook you dinner, I gotta eat anyway. You really need to get your head around working your way up to testing these myths, try holding some garlic first. And I probably could stand to rack up a couple of romance points to balance out the rest of what I do.’

‘You’ll get plenty of romance points if I react horribly to the garlic. Vomiting and whatever else would follow are both activities that really set the romantic mood for me.’

‘And you were judging me for my tameass crying kink,’ he says.

‘Because making people cry during sex is clearly the tamest kink out there,’ you say sarcastically. He’s close and touching you and you don’t think you could ever push him away. You let yourself have a small indulgence as well, running your fingers up the length of his side.

‘C'mon, bed. You can use me for my hot bod and I can get some fucking work done.’ 

Crawling into bed with him sounds like the best thing you could do right now. Or ever. Under normal circumstances, you would probably argue against heading back to bed and doing fuck all, but you don’t seem to know how to stay away from him and he’s essentially a living hot water bottle. You wonder if your insomnia will kick back in after your body’s done flipping its shit over the vampirism. You’ve been oddly exhausted since you were turned. It’s only been worse since you drank that guy’s blood.

‘Mm, whatever,’ you say. ‘We’ll see what kind of work you get done.’

He slips his fingers between yours and even though the two of you have fucked several times lately, it feels like it’s much more of a big deal. You feel your cheeks heat up as you squeeze his hand and let him lead you to his room.

He lets go of your hand and you choose to slip under the covers of his bed and lie in wait for him to get his shit together and join you.

‘Hal, man, you gotta hurry,’ you tell him, your voice not serious in any way whatsoever. ‘I think I’m getting to the point where I can’t sleep without a human sized heating pad.’

Hal is taking his sweet time with getting into bed and you are not having it. You’re going to bitch at him endlessly if he doesn’t get his ass in gear and crawl into bed next to you. Fuck, you’re tired though. Feeling like this is ... weird. That’s the only way you can describe it. You should be struggling to shut your brain up, not feeling like you’re going to fall asleep within the next few minutes.

You’re about to tell him to stop standing around and get in bed already when he finally does the sensible thing and joins you. You’re quick to slide your arm over his stomach and lean your head against his shoulder. God, he’s warm. You think that this must be how nice it feels when dogs and cats lay in patches of sunlight.

‘That was my master plan all along,’ he says. ‘Get you hooked on my amazing powers of thermoregulation and now I get guaranteed Dirk cuddles.’

‘Fuck, I’ve been duped,’ you mumble from your spot against him. You can’t believe that you were ever this warm to the touch. Hal’s body temperature has to be slightly above the standard because he feels like a heated blanket to you. ‘How could you deceive me like this?’

Yeah, you can totally fall asleep like this. Your eyes are already closed. You can feel your mind beginning to slip into that comfortable nothingness. You’re content.

Until you hear the knock at the front door and practically bristle. Who the fuck would come here this late and why are they interrupting this?


	15. Chapter 15

Hal gets out of bed and your irritation at the intrusion increases by a whole lot. This shitty little apartment belongs to you and Hal, no one else, and you can’t shake how much you really don’t want anyone intruding upon it. You’ve never felt this way before. The two of you don’t exactly get visitors often, but on the rare occasions that you have, you have never experienced this nervous but angry ball of emotions over it.

It’s all incredibly irrational, but you want to tell this person to leave. Or act upon the more dangerous urges you have. You can smell whoever it is from here, and while their blood doesn’t smell pleasant in any sense of the word, you can’t quite shake the instinct to tear into them.

It feels more like a territorial thing to you than anything else. It doesn’t mix well with the million _what ifs_ going through your head, all of which have to do with Hal getting harmed in some fashion. There’s no logic behind it at all, you know that whoever is on the other side of that door is likely someone you both know, but you’re feeling overly protective.

Hal’s looking at himself in the mirror with obvious unease and you can see why. He practically looks like he’s been strangled he has that many bruises on his neck. You can’t even feel embarrassed with him, you _like_ that they’re there. You like how clearly he’s yours. You sit up and rub your eyes, trying to focus.

‘I’m going to kick the ass of whoever the hell that is,’ you say. Your voice comes out annoyed, but not murderous, which is a plus. ‘I literally just got you to lie down.’

He reaches into his closet and does a piss-poor job of wrapping it around his neck. The distinctive puncture marks you’ve left are covered but you can still see hickeys. Jesus, you’ve done a number on him. You probably look just as marked up.

‘I think Sollux sent someone to check up on me, I'll get rid of her. You can stay in bed.’ 

He kisses you and it does nothing to ease the tension flooding your body. Your heart is hammering away in your chest and you have no intention of staying in bed. You don’t think that’s even an option with everything in you screaming at you to do something about this. You leave the bedroom in favor of lingering in the hall, finding a decent spot where you can’t be seen but you still have a view of the front door.

He opens the door and the smell of the intruding human increases. You shift slightly and your impression of _lots of hair_ solidifies into recognition. It’s Jade. You know Jade. You really shouldn’t feel the need to rip Jade’s throat out with your teeth, but it’s there. You have to make a conscious effort to keep your fangs from coming out, and it’s making your mouth ache.

‘Hey, Jade,’ Hal says. ‘So, I'm fine, obviously, and Sollux could have just called me or something, I've just been ... busy.’

All she’s doing is standing at the door. Hal is going to talk to her, she’s going to leave, and everything is going to be fine. Except Jade grabs him by the scarf and forces her way inside, and you completely lose your shit internally. You grip the doorframe so tight that the wood cracks under your fingers to stop yourself from lunging at her. She can’t just _grab_ him like that and come inside like she owns the place. This is _your_ apartment, not hers, and Hal is _yours._

Jesus fuck, that’s a seriously possessive thought. You’re going to chalk it up to everything on the vampire side of your brain going absolutely batshit.

She lets go of him and sits on the couch, and some part of you files away the meaning of the words she’s saying and Hal’s reply but it sure as hell isn’t any part of your present attention. You can’t have her there, in your space, between Hal and you. You move way too fast, but you can’t help it, you need to be closer in case … you don’t know why, you just _do._

You’re behind Hal now, one hand gripping his arm. You can feel the tips of your fangs protruding and have to close your eyes as you focus on getting them out of sight. You are _not_ attacking Jade. You open your eyes after a few seconds and glance between Hal and Jade. You’re not wearing a scarf—god, he looks so stupid right now—and you know that the nasty scar on your neck really stands out. It’s not exactly unusual for you to have bite marks on your body, though, so you think you still have a chance of appearing mostly normal.

It takes a lot to pry your hand off of his arm, but you do and fold your arms over your chest where you can keep them tucked away like you didn’t just have a death grip on Hal. This situation is both awkward and suspicious as hell. You’re both fucked.

‘Hey,’ you say, like nothing is out of the ordinary. Again, you’re fucked.

Hal puts his arm around you. You can calm yourself down. You think. You are totally in control of yourself and this situation. It’s just difficult to stop perceiving Jade as an immediate threat instead of just Jade. 

‘You remember Dirk,’ he says. ‘He's ... been keeping me busy.’

You feel like the situation can’t get more awkward than it already is, but then Hal basically tells Jade that you’ve been busy fucking each other and kisses you on the cheek, whispering for you to chill as he does. 

He’s got a point though. You _do_ need to chill out, but you can’t just switch this freak out session you’re having off.

‘Right …’ she says. ‘You guys live together, right? How long has this ...?’ She gestures between the two of you. 

Hal takes his arm from around you so he can grab your hand. You stumble a bit as he tugs you closer to himself, so there goes making that subtle. What’s even less subtle is how you’re looking at anything that’s not Jade. You might snap if you look at her.

‘A couple of days,’ Hal says. ‘Seriously, Jade. Everything's cool here. I got distracted, but I was literally just getting online to check in and work again.’ 

‘Oh! Well, congratulations I guess!’ Jade says. 

You squeeze his hand tightly like you’re dependent on holding it to keep you from losing your shit. You kind of are. You should go isolate yourself literally anywhere else, but there’s no graceful way to leave.

Your body is interpreting your overactive nerves as a reason for your fangs to make themselves known again, and so you keep your lips pressed into a thin line. You can’t get your fangs to retract. You likely look like you’re fucking constipated.

You’re no idiot. You know when you aren’t in the clear, and the way Jade keeps looking at you is really giving you the impression that she knows what’s going on. You don’t trust her enough to believe that she won’t go to the authorities with this. It’s nothing personal. 

Vampires are not known for being favored by humans. It would be similar to a mouse adoring a snake. Even the ones that are either indifferent toward vampires or support them are likely to ensure that a newbie vamp gets dealt with properly. You’re dangerous and unpredictable like this. It would be insane of Jade if she didn’t attempt to have you locked up. Literally the only thing keeping you from lunging for her throat is Hal’s hand.

You don’t pay attention to their conversation. You begin staring at the floor because it’s definitely the most interesting thing here (and _fuck,_ you think you see a couple of drops of blood dried to the floor), not your fangs refusing to go back where they belong or your instincts demanding that you drain Jade’s body of her shitty, nasty smelling blood for entering your apartment.

Although you are certain that you’re only making the whole vampire thing painfully obvious, you don’t let go of Hal’s hand so he can use it to help Jade. It might be an inconvenience for both of them now, but you would rather avoid blacking out and coming to later only to find yourself and the apartment covered in blood.

You are _not_ going to think about how much seeing her touch Hal pisses you off. You’ve never been like this. You can be clingy and possessive at times, sure, but never like this. Your brain is rationalizing murder over this, for fuck’s sake. You can’t keep yourself from glaring at Jade. Something like a snarl briefly situates itself on your face, the tips of your fangs exposed during the few seconds before you realize what you’re doing and abruptly go back to being stoic. You squeeze Hal’s hand and close your eyes because you need to. Otherwise, you think you just might go insane.

You open your eyes again when you’re being pulled along by necessity as Hal shepherds Jade down the hall and out the door.

‘I'm going to message Sollux now,’ he says. You stare at your joined hands so you don’t glare at her, or worse, snarl and display your fangs. ‘He could have called.’

‘He doesn't _do_ phonecalls,’ Jade says. ‘Anyway, nice to get a chance to drop by! We should catch up some time!’

‘Sure,’ Hal says. And then without saying a more formal goodbye, he closes the door.

You feel most of the tension drain out of you as soon as the door is closed and your _territory_ is reestablished. You aren’t relaxed in any sense of the word—you don’t think it’s possible to be relaxed when you just did the worst job ever of concealing your vampireness—but you’re no longer fighting to hold yourself back from harming anyone. It takes some of your stress away. You can feel your fangs finally slip back to where they belong.

You lighten your grip up on Hal’s hand and give it one last squeeze before letting go. You never knew that shit like that happened with vampires. You have never stayed long enough around any particular vampire to figure it out, of course, which makes it a lot more surprising that you didn’t manage to get your throat ripped to pieces. Vampires are apparently territorial as _hell,_ or at least you are, and you are really wishing that you had knocked yourself out before you could do anything stupid.

There’s no way that Jade doesn’t know. She’s not dense by any means, and even a total moron would notice all of the signs. Your nerves are shot and you feel like slamming your head against the wall over and over again. Instead of doing that, you lean against the wall and try for a few deep breaths.

You don’t know what to say. What do you say when you just shot yourself in the foot multiple times? And Hal too, most likely. You’re both fucked and it’s your fault. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him, and you’re as intent upon avoiding eye contact as you were while Jade was here.

He wraps an arm around you and reaches up to stroke your face. You lean into his hand.

‘That could have been worse,’ he says, soft but inescapably firm, like there’s no arguing with his judgement. ‘You didn't attack her. Or ritualistically bone me to assert dominance. She might just think you're a weirdo. Or she might be cool with vampires. I'm gonna message Sollux, find out what we can do to damage control this. It's gonna be okay.’ 

If you had been told months ago that Hal would turn out being a great source of comfort for you, you would have laughed your ass off. Here he is though, holding you and using his words to keep you from getting too deep in your head about this. You’re still anxious as hell and hate how badly you slipped up on self-control, but Hal’s presence alone helps.

You want to reach up and rest your hand over the one on your cheek, but you choose not to sine you just got done squeezing the life out of his other hand. His reassurances help keep you from jumping off of the edge and spiraling down into the deep end in addition to succumbing to a panic attack. You really don’t deserve him. There’s a very high chance that you just wrecked everything for the two of you, but he’s still doing what he can to keep you calm. He kisses you and you want to hold him and never let him go.

You let him pull you to the bedroom, and you wrap one of your arms around him on the way there because you need the close contact. 

‘I'm sorry, that was on me. I shouldn't have let her inside.’ he says. ‘If I'd checked in with Sollux she wouldn't have even come. I was way too casual about letting her inside, so much for me being the cautious tester. Are you okay?’

‘It wasn’t on you. I saw what happened. She pretty much forced her way inside,’ you tell him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one having an uncontrollable freakout.’ You aren’t sure if you’re okay. You’re worrying a lot about this now, but you don’t think you’re going to shutdown over it like you usually would. You nod. ‘Yeah. Are you?’

‘Yeah,’ he says. It’s not the most convincing word you’ve ever heard, but that’s kind of fair. You sit on his bed, following his lead and wrap your arms around him once he gets himself situated on your lap. ‘Okay, now I am.’ 

You love him. You need him this close to you, you love him more than anything. He needs to be close to you too. You can tell from the fact that he positioned himself like this with you, you don’t need to rely on his words for it. It’s still comforting in a way that the need for contact mutual. Even if you have your worries about how much of you what you and Hal are experiencing is actually real, you’re going to ignore that for now so you can indulge in the moment.

Your fingers are curled into the fabric of his shirt so that you can clutch it as tightly as you need to. He’s so warm. It helps you feel human again, like nothing has changed since the night you were turned. You wrap one of your arms around his shoulders so that you can pull him closer while you kiss. You want to be impossibly close to him.

‘I'll fix this,’ he says. ‘Sollux has weird, crazy powers over his bit—his girlfriends. He'll brainwash her or whatever it is that he does to them, we'll be okay, I'm not letting anyone ever take you away from me.’

You keep your eyes closed. Some stupid, irrational part of you is scared that if you open them, he’ll be gone. 

‘Even if you don’t, we’ll be okay, alright? We’re going to be okay no matter what.’ 

You have to be. You don’t know what you’ll do if the two of you aren’t okay. Just the thought of being away from him is like a gut punch. You want to tell him that you love him so badly. You want to do what you can to take his fears away. You don’t want him hurting because of you.

You reach up so that you can run your fingers through his hair as he visibly calms himself down. You love the feeling of each lock between your fingers. His hair is so soft, you’re thoroughly convinced that you could spend eternity just combing your hands through it. You might be biased since you’re head over heels for him, but you think he’s the best thing ever.

‘Okay. I’ve got you.’

Those three words—”I’ve got you”—feel just as good as “I love you.” You nod and kiss him on the bridge of his nose. 

‘I’ve got you too,’ you tell him.

Every kiss he places on your skin makes you feel like you have butterflies in your stomach. You move to return a few of the kisses while he reaches for his phone. 

TT: Hey, so Jade just stopped by.   
TT: Firstly, what the fuck, dude? It's been like a couple of days, get off my dick.   
TT: Secondly, there may have been a bit of an awkward situation given the absolute zero notice you gave me.   
TT: Without making a big deal of this or asking any follow up questions, can you tell me where on the pro/anti scale of vampire attitude Jade sits?

The way that he reads what he types out to Sollux to you is sweet as hell, and it makes you give him a few more kisses than you really need to. He didn’t have to do that. You love him so damn much.

‘How the hell is he appealing to any of the girls that he talks to?’ you ask, making an effort to stay somewhat on topic. You’re still stressed out beyond belief and you’re certain that he is too, but it doesn’t feel quite as overwhelming as it would without him clinging to you. You wish you could get closer, clip through him like a shitty video game character.

‘I have literally no idea. I thought for a while he must have like a pornstar sized dick, but he doesn't. He's got money, but if that was all it was then Feferi wouldn't be all over him, she has her own. The _winning_ theory at the moment is that he's somehow managed to literally hack reality and turn his sex appeal numbers up without impacting his appearance or likeability at all. I've _tried_ to see the appeal. It's like whoever was designing him knew what kind of person he was gonna be so they just modeled his spine off a crushed can of mountain dew.’

You rest your head against his shoulder while you listen to him rant about Sollux. You think you could listen to him talk about anything. Even bonersonas, as stupid of a topic as it is. You feel yourself smile a bit in amusement at his description of Sollux’s spine. 

‘So you’re saying he has a particularly disturbing case of scoliosis?’ you ask. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t even something he was born with. Dude spends all his time slouching over his computer like some kind of goblin.’

You keep stroking through his hair while he reads Sollux’s reply to you.

TA: 2hut up, you heaviing bag of hor2e2hiit, ii cant beliieve ii wa2 worriied about you, youre 2o iin2ufferable.   
TA: what happened, diid D2 have a vamp friiend over? ii know you dont have any.   
TA: friiend2 that i2, not ju2t of the vampiire per2ua2iion eheheh.

‘So either she hasn’t said anything to him yet or he’s fucking with you, though I get the impression that he doesn’t even have a shit to give about the whole vampire topic in the first place.’

‘I don't think he'd fuck with me if it was something actually important,’ Hal says. ‘And I don't think he has a horse in the vampire race at all, but he wouldn't side with any kind of government as a matter of principle. I don't know Jade well enough but if you're cool with it I could tell him and I think he'd help. Or I could say you had an obvious bite and Jade seemed weird, leave it at that and see if things get worse. Your call.’

You have to think it over for a moment. You aren’t scared of being locked up in isolation, but registration goes hand in hand with your life effectively being over. You don’t want to be apart from Hal either. He’s played a huge role in preventing this vampire bullshit from fucking you up as much as it could have. You can believe that Sollux doesn’t have an opinion on the vampire issue, and you can see him doing anything against the government just to spite it, but you aren’t close enough with him to trust him. You trust Hal, though.

Your first instinct is to nod, but you realize a moment before you try to that it would be unpleasant on Hal. 

‘Just go ahead and tell him,’ you say. You drop your hand down from his head so you can rub circles into his back. ‘I don’t think he would report it; that would require talking to someone outside of his circle and possibly getting out of the house.’

You appreciate him giving you a choice in the matter. He could have just gone ahead and outed you as a vampire to Sollux. You shift so that you can kiss him on the jaw.

‘Thanks,’ he says. You can hear the sound of him typing behind you already. You don’t miss the way that he squeezes you with his legs, and you decide to return the gesture with your arms.

It’s the best way to do it, you think. You can’t shake the feeling that lying about being a vampire would only backfire later. Hell, any way that you handle this could backfire later, but you think this is your best shot at a decent outcome. 

TT: Actually Dirk is the vampire.   
TT: He got turned under less than awesome circumstances, I helped him through it.   
TT: That's the reason I've been off the grid.   
TA: well fuck.   
TA: ii know liiterally nothiing about vampiire2, but iim pretty 2ure that2 not allowed.   
TT: What are you, a cop?   
TA: poiint taken.   
TA: JD 2aw?   
TT: Yeah, apparently territories are a thing. I thought I was being smart covering the bite marks with a scarf.   
TA: oh damn he2 been biitiing you? what2 that liike?   
TT: Fucking awesome, but focus.   
TT: Is Jade likely to report this?   
TA: ii dont know. ii keep our less than legiit stuff hiidden from all the giirl2, ju2t iin ca2e. 2he made a comment once about my riig not beiing up two code. maybe.   
TT: What do we do?   
TA: ii gue22 we hope iim 2o good at fuckiing her that 2he forget2?

‘Hey, what’s wrong with him?’ you say, grimacing. Jesus Sollux is gross. ‘And _seriously_ , why does anyone want to jump his dick? He’s got the personality of an incel neckbeard that works at GameStop.’

TT: ...   
TA: nah, iill talk two her.   
TA: and 2he ha2 no proof, riight? maybe you 2hould practiice clo2iing the door iin cop2 face2.   
TA: iill do 2ome re2earch. you focu2 on gettiing D2 up two pa22iing.   
TT: What about work?   
TA: 2o a couple of iidiiot2 wont have jaiilbroken iiphone2. iidk, iill put a notiice up 2ayiing were workiing through a backlog.   
TT: Thanks.   
TA: gro22, dont thank me. je2u2, how am ii even 2uppo2ed two know thii2 ii2 you?   
TT: Because literally no one else would bother with your basic as fuck leet, you crumpled Mountain Dew can of a bastard.   
TA: eheheh later HL.

When he finishes reading the conversation out to you, your chest feels a little less tight. You press several kisses to his face while he hugs you, but it still doesn’t feel like you’ve kissed him enough. You kiss his cheek and hold him close while you lean back, pulling him down so that he’s laying with you.

‘You guys suck at concealing your emotional shit with animosity,’ you inform him. ‘We’re going to be okay,’ you say, quieter. You’re not sure if you’re reassuring him or yourself. You both need it.

Hal is like a weighted blanket that’s also heated while he’s laying on top of you. He’s better than a blanket by a long shot though. It’s much more satisfying to hug and cuddle Hal than it is to do the same with a pillow. He slips his hand underneath your shirt to touch you, so you decide to do the same. You trace his spine with your fingertips, occasionally drawing a few patterns on his skin.

You smile a little when Hal speaks. 

‘Don't be jealous baby, you're my first and foremost bastard.’ He kisses you like this is some big compliment. Something’s wrong with you that it works. ‘We're definitely going to be okay. You're going to have to deal with my bullshit for so long.’

‘Oh, I’m aware,’ you tell him. He’s so sweet. He can hide that as much as he wants under layers and layers of bullshit, but you can still pick it out. ‘I don’t think I’d have it any other way.’ That’s way too sappy. Surprisingly, you’re okay with that.

He kisses you and you move one of your hands to the back of his neck and keep him there. His lips feel so nice against your own, and you’re convinced that something about kissing him is therapeutic to you. Everything about him seems therapeutic to you. You don’t think there’s much truth to it, but you do know that you feel better after being with him. Just being with him keeps your worries away.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk takes the reins for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really recommend that you listen to [Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixw_bLVUL34) on my co-writer's recommendation and join me in The Feels. Let me know if you'd be interested in a playlist for this fic at all.

There’s something addictive about feeling his skin against your fingers. It’s so smooth and soft under your hands, and you’re thoroughly convinced that you could happily spend eternity touching him. You’ve already kind of proven that over the past few days.

It feels really good when he grinds against you, and you lift your hips so that it’s easier for you to do the same to him. You think you would anything with him. You like to think that you’re fairly open when it comes to sex, but he could probably pull the weirdest, most obscure kink he could think of out of his ass and it would still turn you on because it’s _him._

‘You want to fuck me?’ he asks. ‘Tell me you have a scary array of dicks with which to absolutely ruin me. Or I'll do you, I just want to be close, you know?’

You pause, surprised. 

‘... Possibly. Are you actually going to let me?’ you ask. ‘I can throw you off a lot more easily now, by the way. The shower gave you an unfair advantage.’

You’re still shocked that he could pick you up, but god, it was hot. You can relate to his statement. You always want to be close to him. Sex is a great method of satisfying that desire.

Naturally he has to make it difficult for you by doing everything that drives you absolutely insane, kissing your neck and jaw gentle like he can be sometimes. You groan as he presses his teeth against your neck. It feels good, but it’s not nearly enough. You want him to bite you as hard as he can.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I know I was playing dirty. You can totally take me. Fuck me, Dirk. I'll barely fight you for it.’

It’s hard to give him a look when he’s grinding against you and touching you all over. You could happily just spend this time grinding against him until you both come.

‘I’m calling bullshit,’ you say, your voice uneven.

You shift so you can rake your teeth down the length of his neck and dig your nails into his skin. He’s fucking gorgeous and he feels amazing against you, but if you’re going to get anywhere with this, you need him to stop. You grip his hips tightly so that you can still his movements.

‘Hal, I can’t fuck you if you don’t get off of me. I don’t know if you’ve realised this, but all of the dicks I own are in my room, not shoved up my ass where I can instantly retrieve them.’

Of course he would ask you to fuck him and then do absolutely everything to make that not happen. There’s an urge in you to just give up on it no matter how badly you want to reverse your roles and slowly take him apart. It feels good when he’s on top of you and reducing you to nothing more than a moaning mess. He sits up, but makes no further move to get off you and in the direction of your bedroom, where you need to be if you’re going to do as he wants. The sight of him straddling you is incredibly hot.

You’re stubborn, though, and you really want to get back at him for what he pulled in the shower earlier. You’re about to try to sit up when he pulls your shirt off of you and, seemingly with a lot of hesitance behind it, gets to his feet and pulls you with him. You don’t think you’re ever going to get sick of holding his hand. It’s warm against your own and you can’t even begin to describe the amount of comfort you get from feeling his fingers between your own. 

‘That'd be an actually cool superpower,’ he says. ‘Infinite dick storage. I can see the low budget porno now.’ He drags you out of his room and into the hallway. ‘I'd watch the shit out of that, and not just because you're hot as fuck.’

You kiss him and gently push him so that you’re leading the way because you have a feeling that him walking backwards is only going to end badly. 

‘Let’s not revisit the stupid sex-based superhero talk, okay? I’m not interested in hearing about bonersonas again.’

You kiss him again when you reach your bedroom and open the door. You’re partially surprised and disappointed that he sits on your bed instead of continuing to cling to you. You wouldn’t be able to do what you need to with him all over you, but you still miss the feeling of his skin against yours. The short period of time away from him will absolutely be worth it though.

‘Aye aye, sir,’ he says. 

You go over to your closet and work on getting out of your pants and underwear. You swear that there’s no good way to get undressed quickly enough. You’re about to say something about him quitting too easily, but you think you hear him say something quietly enough that you can’t make out the words. 

‘What was that?’ he asks. You take your shirt and pants off instead of answering. 

It’s a damn shame that you have to turn your back to him while he strips his clothes off. You open your closet and reach into the back—it’s actually kind of near where you hid in here before, which is somewhat funny to think about—and retrieve your box of totally normal shit to have stowed away. You become overly aware of the fact that he can watch you perfectly at this angle, and you’re tempted to ask him to look away. You are far from shy about this kind of thing, but you feel as if the likelihood of fucking up while getting your harness on is going to skyrocket from him watching you alone.

‘Hey, you should close your eyes,’ he says, turning to look at him. You wink. ‘Makes it hotter on your end.’

‘Whatever you say. Are you gonna pull something really unexpected out while I can't see?’

He actually closes his eyes, and that only makes you want to drop everything you’re doing and kiss him as a reward. There was a purpose to asking him to do this, though, so you locate your harness and get to pulling it on while he can’t see you. Normally you wouldn’t care too much about someone seeing you fumble a bit with the thing, but Hal is more important to you than the random dudes you’ve slept with. You want to make a good impression on him.

He likes your ass a _lot_ under normal circumstances, so you imagine that he’ll probably appreciate it more with black straps cupping it. You get yourself properly dicked up before walking over to him.

‘I don’t have any of those Bad Dragon dildos if that’s what you’re thinking.’

He’s really pretty with his eyes closed. And vulnerable. You sit down next to him and begin kissing him on his neck, occasionally giving him your teeth whenever you see fit. You wrap one arm around his waist and occupy your free hand with rubbing light, teasing circles into his nipple.

‘You can open your eyes now,’ you murmur against his jaw. ‘If you want.’

He opens his eyes hesitatingly, and as expected his eyes go right to your dick. You’re not exactly suffering in the ego department, but the clear lust in his expression is pretty flattering. 

‘Hrrngh,’ he says, reaching out to touch one of the straps of your harness.

‘I'm so fucking lucky,’ he says. 

He kisses you and you press yourself closer to him. You pinch his nipple and slip your fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear. You spend several moments just petting the skin there because it’s soft and warm and just _good._ You’re never going to get tired of touching him. He feels amazing.

You begin to tug his underwear down. You are definitely going to get your mouth on him. You’re looking forward to all of the noises he’s going to make. You want to fuck him right away but you also want to go slow and drag this out. You’re convinced that you’re the lucky one. You’re going to take him apart however you see fit and pull every moan and whine you can out of him.

You break the kiss so you can get your teeth on his collarbone, though you make sure to nip his earlobe before you move down. You get his underwear down as low as you need—he can kick them the rest of the way off—place your hands on his hips, and push him so that he’s on his back. You kiss him on the cheek. 

‘You’re so good,’ you murmur.

‘You are,’ he says, looking kind of dazed. ‘Seriously, dude, you feel amazing.’

He’s not resisting you at all. So far he’s done what you’ve asked of him without even saying anything snarky, and something about that makes you feel ridiculously warm on the inside. He’ll probably pull something on you later—you’re not forgetting what happened in the shower so easily—but that’s okay. You don’t take Hal for a fully submissive bottom anyway.

You turn your attention back to his neck while you run your hands over his skin. He’s so perfect. You want to give him the world. You also want to get distracted kissing him again, but you’re never going to get anywhere with this if you do that. Plus, you’re very interested in seeing how he reacts to your teeth on his chest.

You suck a bruise into his skin right over his sternum. You reach down so you can run your fingers over his dick, keeping your touch teasing and light for now. His gasp is so satisfying.

‘Mhm, not as good as you,’ you say, lips against his chest. ‘You should experience how amazing _you_ feel.’

He gasps when you leave marks on his chest, so you decided to focus your attention on his nipples to try to draw more noises out of him. You lick and bite at one of his nipples and toy with the other one with your fingers, making sure to continue stroking his cock while you do so.

‘I'd totally get nasty with a clone of me. Literally what else is the point of clones?’ he says, stroking down your back. His hands feel good on your back. You think they would feel good anywhere.

‘I think I would end up fighting a clone of me.’ Multiple Hals though? There’s a stupid, sexy thought. You must be really head over heels for him if ideas like that are popping into your head.

Unfortunately, you have to abandon his chest to get where you’re going. You begin peppering kisses down the rest of his torso.

‘I'll have to save the Dirk clones from you,’ he says. You throw in the occasional bite and make sure to leave a hickey or two right where his stomach ends and his crotch begins. ‘Maybe it's better that we don't have any, I can barely handle one of you.’

You totally press a kiss to the head of his cock too when you get there. He laughs and that makes you smile. His laugh is so pretty, and there’s something special about hearing it when he’s so wound up. You stroke his hip with your thumb and watch him as he positions himself so he can see you.

‘I can’t even begin to imagine how chaotic things would be with a bunch of Hal clones,’ you joke. ‘Minecraft would crash on a global scale immediately, I’m sure.’

You know for a fact that other people don’t have conversations as weird as you two do when you’re having sex, but you think that just shows that you’re comfortable enough around each other to say whatever stupid things come to mind.

With his eyes on you, you’re tempted to take things as slowly as you can without going crazy. You drag your tongue up the length of his dick and just barely ghost it over his slit. Your hand is almost still around him, your fingers giving him fleeting little strokes. You take the very tip of his cock into your mouth and suck on it lightly.

‘Minecraft wouldn't know what hit it,’ he says shakily. ‘I'd make so many dick castles. All my castles are phallic, it's a principle thing. Equius fucking h-hates it, but h…’ 

He’s stumbling over his words, he can’t even get that last sentence out, and holy _shit_ if that isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed then you don’t know what is. Well, he’s pretty damn hot, actually, but you don’t think that counts since he’s the source. You want to ruin him, make it so that he can’t even get a coherent syllable out.

‘But?’

You’re very curious to see if you can get him to keep talking. He’s not exactly one to back down from a challenge, and you want to see just how difficult it gets for him to speak while you’re busy taking him apart bit by bit. It’s also turning you on a lot to hear and see him like this.

 _’Fuck,’_ he gasps. ‘But he doesn't get to take the high horse with me,’ you say, speaking quickly as if that'll keep you from stammering over your words. ‘Not when he's commissioned me for furry porn.’

You slip your hand down to his ass so that you can grope one of his cheeks. You let your lips linger just barely on the head of his dick before you take it back into your mouth, this time going further than before. You’re eager to taste him, so you press your tongue against the underside of his dick and lick him as you please.

‘Looked up so many, _fuck,_ Dirk … horse cocks … sooo many r-reference pictures out there. Bronies got bank, bro.’

Oh, this is perfect. He’s perfect. You’ve noticed before how he gets when he tries to keep up a conversation while you two fuck, but you didn’t prod him to continue whenever he let himself trail off. You’re regretting that now because this is the best thing you have ever seen. 

You pull back a mere few centimeters from his dick. He’s so gorgeous like this, and he sounds amazing.

‘Did he like it?’ 

This is such a weird fucking conversation to be having right now. Last time you two talked about boneronas, though. You’re not sure if this tops it or not.

You nip him on the ass and lick his hole before getting your mouth on his dick again, but this time you take him in properly, not stopping until you feel the head brush the back of your throat. You start to bob your head while sucking him off, and you keep your tongue busy too. You press one of your fingers against his asshole and start teasing it, rubbing circles into it and pulling at the edges.

‘Yeah,’ he groans. ‘I mean, I'm not putting on a mask or anything but also I'm not … not uhh ... not getting nothing out of it.’ He’s practically falling apart in front of you. You’re so thankful for the fact that he’s positioned so that you can clearly see his face and every expression that flits across it. ‘Animals hot.’

You’ll be the first to admit that it doesn’t take much to convince you to put your mouth on someone’s dick, but sucking Hal off is so worth the reaction you’re getting. He can’t even form proper sentences, and knowing that causes you to feel rather prideful as far as your blow job abilities go. You continue playing with his ass while you think about your next move.

You could suck him off until he comes. That would be hotter than hell, and you could fuck him through his refractory period if he’s up for it too. You could also back off from his dick now and get on your way to fucking him. The idea of stringing him along until he’s nothing more than a moaning, begging mess is a very enticing thought.

You can also just ask Hal what his preference is. You pull back from his dick, but not without licking the head and placing another kiss on it. 

‘You sound so hot like this, fuck,’ you say. You’re breathless, but you don’t care. You have a good reason to be. ‘Do you want me to suck you off until you come and then fuck you? Or how about I leave your dick alone now and start working on your ass?’

‘God, I want to come,’ he groans. ‘Why am I like this, why do I want punishment? Leave my dick alone, want yours.’

He’s so desperate right now, you love it. It’s enough to make you want to keep going at his dick until he comes, but you’re not going to take away his choice in the matter just because you’re horny and you like the weight of his dick in your mouth.

‘Are you sure?’ you ask him teasingly. 

You can’t believe he’s letting you do this. You’re so accustomed to Hal throwing everything he has at you before he gives up, but he hasn’t once attempted to swap positions with you. You know you’re a sap, but it’s nice to know that he trusts you enough to let you do this, that he actually wants you to do this.

You wrap your fingers around Hal’s dick and give it a few slow, loose pumps while you get yourself more formally acquainted with his ass. You use the hand that isn’t full of dick to cup his cheeks and spread them so that you can lick and suck at his rim. You can’t resist the urge to knead your fingers into his ass while you push your tongue into him.

‘Yeah, oh my God,’ he gasps and spreads his legs wider, his ass tensing in your hand as he moves. ‘You're so good, _fuck.’_

You keep your touches to his dick light. There’s something that’s both really hot and endearing to watch and feel him squirm under your fingertips, and you’re loving every moment of it. You’re also loving the fact that he’s still speaking even though you aren’t prompting him to anymore. You absolutely would if you could, but fucking his ass with your tongue isn’t an activity that allows much room for speech.

You want to tongue him so thoroughly that you can still taste him hours later, but you don’t know how long Hal will last. You don’t know how long _you_ will last. You haven’t touched yourself once and you’re still painfully turned on. You would be lying if you said you weren’t eager to hear how loud he gets once you have your dick inside of him.

You pull back so you can lick at your finger before slowly pushing it into Hal. You press a kiss to his inner thigh and watch him.

‘How’s that?’ you ask.

You love being able to see him like this. He’s absolutely stunning when he’s spread out under you like this, and you don’t think that even eternity would be enough time to commit the image to memory as thoroughly as you would want to. You genuinely think that he’s the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen.

‘Yes,’ he groans. ‘Yes, so good. More, please Dirk.’

God, you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of his voice. He sounds amazing. You press a second kiss to his thigh before biting him. You lick the red mark that’s left behind and start moving your finger in and out of him.

‘You taste so fucking good,’ you tell him. ‘You should bottom more often; you’re so hot like this.’

‘Yeah,’ he agrees. ‘Holy _fuck_ that feels good.’ 

You suck a hickey into his skin and move down so you can lick your middle finger before pushing it into his ass. You can’t resist the urge to stroke and lick his cock while you fuck him with your fingers. Every noise he makes just encourages you to worship him. He deserves it.

You worry at first that he isn’t going to relax for you and this is going to have some kind of impact on things once you start fucking him, but then he practically melts once you get your tongue back on his cock. Oh, you can definitely work with this. You’re more than happy to.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes.

You devote the next few moments to fingering him and getting your mouth better acquainted with his dick. You absolutely adore him. There’s nothing in the world that can possibly be better than this. You’re definitely going to have to suck his dick more often, not to mention take the reins from him. You begin to slowly work your way back up his body, pausing to kiss his skin in places and mark him up.

You stop once you’re level with him and start to leave kisses along the column of his throat. He’s so good for you. He makes sure that his actions match up to your own, and it’s insanely pleasing to watch him move his head so that his neck is beautifully exposed for you. 

You rest your forehead against his shoulder and reach for your nightstand with the hand not occupied with Hal’s dick. You manage to locate the bottle and press a kiss to Hal’s lips while you ease your fingers out of him. You want to tell him that you love him so badly. 

‘You’re perfect,’ you whisper against his mouth.

He kisses you back and cups your cheek with his hand, staring into your eyes. His hand on your cheek feels so warm and nice.

‘Dirk, I …’ he says, before stumbling to a stop. He’s so gorgeous, brain overloaded from pleasure and you did that to him. ‘Want you inside me so fuckin' bad,’

You open the bottle and coat your fingers before returning them to his ass. You would rather be safe than sorry. You made sure to get him decently wet with your saliva, but you don’t want to risk hurting him. You don’t think you would be able to forgive yourself for that, not when he’s so relaxed and trusting below you.

You kiss him again while you lube up your dick. You don’t think you could ever have enough of him. You love him, he’s yours, and you want to give him everything you can in this moment. You put the cap back on the bottle and put it on the table. You cup his ass cheek and give it a squeeze while you line yourself up with him and slowly start to push in.

‘Is this okay?’

‘Yes, oh my _God,’_ he says.

You groan as he pushes his heels into you so that he can take your dick in deeper. That’s so hot. You don’t think you could ever last a long amount of time teasing him when he’s this addictive. 

_’Please,’_ he whines.

You wrap one arm around him and bite his shoulder. You can’t think of anything better than Hal begging you to fuck him. 

You give him a few more seconds to adjust despite him urging you on before you begin moving. You start off with slow, deep thrusts for now. Due to the way your harness is made, it rubs against you in the best way, and it’s a challenge to keep yourself from moaning as you fuck him.

You kiss his jaw and linger there for a moment, taking in his scent and just feeling his body against your own. You place your free hand on his hip and kiss him on the lips next. He’s fucking electrifying in every way imaginable. You can’t get enough of him. You bite at his lip and moan into his mouth.

‘Hal,’ you murmur breathlessly. ‘You’re gorgeous like this.’

‘Think I'm gonna let you see this side of me more, holy _shit,_ Dirk,’ he says. ‘You're unfairly good at this, oh my God.’

‘Good,’ you say. ‘You suit it.’

There’s no way that this can be a one time thing. Hal’s hot when he’s topping and he feels incredible, but the same is true when he’s bottoming. You want to see him both ways. You’re thankful that he’s letting you see this side of him, that he’s letting you fuck him with no opposition whatsoever. 

The way he looks while he’s getting fucked makes you want to kiss him and never move away. You want him to drown every one of his moans in your mouth even if it makes fucking him more difficult. You kiss him one last time before you place your hands on his shoulders and sit upright so you can speed up.

You’re so turned on that you think you’re throbbing. The way that the harness rubs against you is so good but it’s not enough, and you wish that you could actually feel him clenching down on you as you fuck him. You move one of your hands down so that you can start stroking his cock again, though this time you don’t hold back.

He’s so much louder than you anticipated, but that makes the whole experience so much better. You don’t want him to hold back. The whine he makes sends a shudder through you, and you think that your heart nearly stops when swears begin falling out of him.

‘Oh fuck-shit-damn, ohh my God,’ he groans. ‘There,’ he insists, holding onto your hip.

You angle your hips in an effort to hit him in that same spot over and over. You want to make him cry out like that again. You want to burn the sound and the expression he made into your memory permanently. 

‘Is that good?’ you ask. God, you want to see him come so badly. You cup his dick with your hand so that you can jack him off properly and focus on fucking him harder and faster. 

‘Come for me, Hal, c’mon,’ you pant. ‘You’re so fuckin’ good, please.’ You want to see him lose himself. You want him to feel as good as he makes you feel when he fucks you.

You would give anything to be able to feel his ass around your dick when he comes, but you do get to watch how his body tenses and his entire expression changes into one of pure pleasure. It’s one of the hottest things you have ever seen, and so is the sight of the mess that reaching his climax leaves on his torso.

You fuck him through his orgasm, partially so you can work him through it and partially because you’re feeling desperate for the friction. It’s quickly becoming harder for you to keep your movements from being messy and rushed, and soon you’re tensing up with your hands gripping Hal tightly as your orgasm hits you.

You kiss the marks you left on his neck, and then you start to kiss your way up to his lips.

‘You did so good,’ you tell him. You want to say that you love him, but you bite your tongue. You’ll only scare him off if you do that so soon. You fumble with removing the harness with one hand and reach for the pack of tissues in your nightstand so you can clean Hal up.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes. _’Fuck,_ Dirk, that was some choice dick wizardry right there.’

You get him cleaned up and put the used tissues and the pack on top of the nightstand to deal with later. You finally manage to get your harness off and toss it aside. You’re shaky and eager to do nothing but lay with him. He’s already wrapping his arms around you, and the knowledge that he wants to be close just as much as you do is a huge comfort.

‘And I don’t even have an authentic 100% natural dick.’ 

You hum a little and cup his cheek so you can stroke the skin there. You kiss his temple and simply allow yourself to stay there for a few moments. His skin is so warm and soft. You never want to move away from it.

‘I can’t believe you actually let me fuck you. I was fully convinced that you were going to pull the same shit you did in the shower and I was going to look like a dumbass wearing a strap on while getting fucked.’

You kiss him as you start to pet through his hair. You don’t ever want to give this up. Hal is so perfect to you. Cuddling into him and kissing him just feels right somehow. He drags the blankets over the two of you. You let him move you and wrap your arms around him once he’s where he wants to be. You begin to run your fingers from the bottom of his spine to the top, and you’re content to continue doing this over and over. You wish you could touch every inch of his skin at once.

‘I considered taking over,’ he says. ‘Still wanted the dick, but I could've ridden you. Be hot to fuck you with your dick on though, that harness is really sexy.’

You roll your eyes even if the thought of him fucking himself on your dick is an extremely hot one. You definitely wouldn’t be opposed to doing that sometime.

‘Of course you did. Cowboy Hal is not a bad idea, though.’ You kiss the bridge of his nose. ‘Wouldn’t fucking me while I’m wearing a strap on be somewhat redundant?’

You figured he would like your harness. He seems like the type to enjoy leather straps and more. You wouldn’t mind getting kinkier with him in bed, though the sex is already pretty mind blowing. You might overload yourselves if you add to it. You turn your head so you can catch his lips with your own. You’re never going to get tired of this.

‘Mmm, yeah, but that's hot too. Contingency plans and all that, leaving it open for creative use of dick. Problem being that I like your real dick too much to cover it up all the time.’

You brush his hair out of his face, but you can’t just leave it at that. You’re weak for touching him everywhere, but it’s like his hair has some kind of addictive pull to it. It probably doesn’t help that he enjoys it too. You begin running your fingers through his hair, pausing every now and again so that you can massage his scalp.

‘I’m really hoping that my cause of death turns out to be “creative use of dick” now,’ you say. You gently twist a lock of his hair around your finger. ‘I get what you mean, but because of you my real dick is often more exposed than it is covered. Is this all some elaborate scheme to push me into the nudist life?’

You’re thankful that he doesn’t appear to want to move for the time being. Your planned cuddle session was interrupted due to, of all people, Sollux Captor. You still feel tired from expelling random dude’s blood over the toilet, and the stress and anxiety you have experienced today have only been adding to that. You’ve also been fucking around with Hal a lot, and as good as it is, it’s exhausting, especially with the other factors contributing to your fatigue at play. You might just end up falling asleep within the next few minutes.

‘You got me," he says. ‘I was trying to ease you into it, get you all comfy with me and then one day, bam, you've been naked for three months and haven't even realised.’

You’re struggling to force yourself to stay awake. Your eyelids feel heavy and your whole body is surrounded by warmth. You owe that to Hal for pulling blankets over the two of you and for being a living hot water bottle. You catch yourself closing your eyes and jerk yourself out of it immediately. You aren’t opposed to sleeping like you usually would be, but you like being conscious during your moments with Hal.

‘Fuck,’ you mumble. ‘I’ve been giving you the benefit of the doubt this whole time and you’re just trying to pull the rug out from under me. I feel shocked and betrayed, Hal.’

Your movements are beginning to slow down. Your hand on his back has stopped completely and is just resting on it now. You don’t have enough brain power to do anything but fiddle with the same lock of hair over and over with your other hand. 

‘You feel nothing but tired, bro, admit it.’ he kisses you gently. ‘I'm doing a public service, anyway. You're too gorgeous not to be using the world as your catwalk.’

You’re not going to sleep. Not yet. You’re going to try to stay awake a little longer so you can keep talking with Hal and continue to cuddle him. You catch yourself dozing again moments after making this decision, only realising it when the feeling of Hal’s lips on your forehead surprises you into waking up again. 

His lips are so warm against your own, you love it. You drop your hand from his head so you can wrap your arm around his shoulders and hold him even closer. Maybe Hal’s dick really is doing wonders for your insomnia. You feel like you want nothing more than to sleep, and feeling something like that is painfully rare for you.

‘Mmm, no. I am so awake right now. I’m currently, like, the most wide awake person in the world. It’s me.’

You’re about to just flat out call him stupid because the part of your brain that dishes out insults is presumably on the verge of sleep like the rest of you, but Hal’s phone rings and you groan.

Since turning, your senses have been upped considerably. Hal is a pretty quiet roommate, thankfully. You don’t think you would have been able to stomach him for so long if that wasn’t the case. The only bad experience you’ve had is when you snuck out. People are loud, especially in large numbers, and the music that’s played in clubs and bars is also loud. Hal’s phone suddenly screeching Pon Pon Pon makes you feel like you were shot directly in the eardrums, so you promptly stuff your head under the pillow until he answers it.

‘Sollux,’ Hal says, answering it. 

It’s probably important. You’ll have to be pissy over your cuddle session being interrupted a second time later.

‘Jade snitched,’ Sollux says.

You rub your eyes and slowly begin to sit up when what Sollux says has you freezing. You can hear him pretty well. You kind of wish you couldn’t.

‘Fuck,’ Hal says.

Hal puts his phone on speaker and tugs you against himself. You’re quick to drop your hand down so you can push your fingers between his. You squeeze his hand tightly and take a deep breath. It’s safe to say that you’re wide awake now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of sex pretty much from the start, sex scene ends with, "You kiss the marks you left on his neck, and then you start to kiss your way up to his lips." If you're skipping this scene, it's important to know that Hal gives Dirk total control and there's a lot of trust and love happening here. Also, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mwg1sEzX7pU) version of Pon Pon Pon.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk and Hal discuss their options. And their feelings.

You know that Hal put his phone on speaker so that you could hear his conversation with Sollux, but you’re barely listening. 

‘She came over, significantly later than when you updated me, and she was all “something's wrong there but I fixed it” and then it took a while to get her to admit what she meant because she's a stubborn fuck but I got the story out of her and then kicked her out. You _are_ okay, right?’

‘Yes, you fuck, I can handle myself,’ Hal replies. ‘Everything's under control, I just didn't know that vampires weren't particularly jazzed about people coming into their space.’

Your eyes are firmly planted on one of the blankets on the bed while your mind races at a hundred miles per minute. There’s no route you can choose to avoid any of it without endangering Hal as well. You roped him into this. Technically, he’s been committing a crime by not turning you in. You think that will be overlooked in addition to your failure to turn yourself in—there’s a sort of grace period with this type of thing, you’ve learned that much from hanging with vampires.

‘You should have researched this shit,’ Sollux says. ‘Kay Enn says that the first bit's rough as fuck, she was in official quarantine like a rule-abiding person and it was still a nightmare.’

‘Cayenne?’ Hal asks.

‘Kanaya. Do you not know her? Dee Ess probably knows her, she's in some kind of unfathomable relationship with Rose. Whatever, that doesn't matter, what matters is you probably only have 'til morning before someone comes knocking at your door. Are you running or facing the law?’

If you make a break for it, Hal’s going to get absolutely shit on by the legal system. He’s going to look like an accomplice, and you have no doubt that he would be charged for illegally housing an unregistered vampire. That’s if he _doesn’t_ try to go with you. If he went with you, the legal repercussions would be significantly worse if you were found. 

His life would be effectively ruined too. You can’t imagine that employers are begging to hire people whose faces have been plastered all over the local news for shady behavior.  
You aren’t _afraid_ of this. You can deal with being placed in quarantine. You can handle being registered. Like any sane person, however, you aren’t looking to have ‘vampire’ stamped all over every piece of identification you have. It’s only rational to want to avoid your desirability for work, college, and more being absolutely destroyed by one piece of information. You don’t want to be separated from Hal either. The thought alone makes your chest feel painfully tight.

They’ve continued to talk while you’ve weighed your options internally, but you tuned them out at some point. 

‘You aren’t doing anything,’ you tell Hal. “No matter how we handle this, you’re legally fucked unless I willingly let them take me. I’m not letting that happen to you.”

‘But I—we have to at least consider our options,’ Hal says. He practically throws his phone away so he can reach for your face, cupping your cheeks with his hands. He stares into your eyes. ‘If we can just lay low while Sollux does his _Matrix_ bullshit, maybe we can trick them that you're still …’ 

You can easily guess what Hal was going to say. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. You aren’t human anymore. It’s nothing more than a simple fact.

‘Hal, I have a scar on my neck that’s half the size of my hand. I can’t even keep myself chilled out with only one person walking in. Do you really think I can avoid going apeshit if a bunch of fucking cops decide to stop by? There’s no guarantee that we can cover this up. In fact, I’d say that our chances are pretty depressingly slim. Even if we did call in false reports under Jade’s name, we can’t assume that they wouldn’t pass up investigating this one.’

You can’t shake the guilt that fills you. This is your fault. You’re the one who got him tangled up in your mess, and now he’s telling you that he’s willing to face the possibility of going to prison for you. You’re not going to let that happen. Even if you weren’t in love with him, you wouldn’t be able to let him take that risk. There’s no ideal solution for this situation. You don’t think it’s possible for the three of you to sort this mess out and dodge being arrested. There’s still a way to minimize the damage, though. You aren’t going to drag people down with you.

You rest your hand over one of his and start rubbing circles into the back of it with your thumb. You don’t like the idea of Hal being registered as a companion, but it’s still better than the alternative of racking up crimes in his name.

‘It isn’t like we even have a guaranteed period of eight hours before someone decides to visit. No one’s stupid enough to pick up a vampire during the day, so they’re going to be knocking on the door tonight or, if they decide to slack on this case—which I seriously doubt—sometime after sunset tomorrow. We’re fucked.’

Fuck it. You need both of your hands on his. You love him so much. You don’t want to be quarantined and registered. You definitely don’t want to spend any length of time away from him. However, you don’t want anything happening to him. That comes before the rest.

‘It’s not fair to drag Sollux’s ass into legal trouble either. If that happens, you’ll risk getting something extra in addition to this on your records. Your shit isn’t exactly clean.’ You pause, squeezing his hands. Your voice is quieter when you speak again. ‘It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.’

‘I'd do it,’ Hal murmurs.

You want to call him an idiot, but the desire is drowned out completely by the overwhelming wave of affection you feel for him. You can’t believe that you have this person in your life that’s willing to do so much for you. Hal has already done a lot for you. He was there to try to keep you from dying the night you turned. You didn’t even want him to do that. He cleaned up the bloody aftermath of that night, and he’s been your source of nutrition since then. He was there for you when you were puking your guts up after you snuck out, and he handled the situation so fucking gently. He’s been treating you with so much care and tenderness that you swear your heart is going to cave in on itself from all the sweetness if he keeps it up. Now he’s saying that he would be willing to take his chances and put his reputation and freedom on the line for you, and ...

‘Okay, you guys are adorable but you need to focus. If you're facing the cops then there's other shit you can do so it doesn't look like you got caught. Hal, send a failed email, backdate it a couple days so it looks like you made an attempt. When the cops get there, pretend like you just thought bureaucracy had failed, like they'd get around to you eventually. Pretend like when they rock up it's because you contacted them, not the other way around.’

Hal nods, not taking his eyes off yours, and then realises Sollux isn’t in the room to see that. He’s a complete idiot, but he’s your idiot and you love him so much that you feel like you can’t even breathe. You swear that it’s going to kill you if you don’t tell him soon.

‘Yeah,’ he says. 

‘I'm gonna do a cleanup, just in case they snoop into your work records,’ Sollux says, and then there’s a beep as he hangs up without any kind of closing greeting. He and Hal have the strangest friendship.

Hal glances at his phone for the smallest moment before pulling you into a desperate kiss. He’s kissing you passionately, like you mean the world to him. You wrap your arms around him tightly and hold him close as you kiss him back. You could kiss him forever. The cops could burst in now and you wouldn’t be able to stop. You think you love him more than you’ve ever loved anyone in your life.

You’re going to be isolated for an indeterminable amount of time. You might have told him that everything’s going to be okay, but you have no real way of knowing that. You should probably tell him how you feel, but it’s so hard. It’s easier to just kiss him and hope that he gets the message that way, but you want him to know. You need him to know. Even if it scares you.

You hesitate before you pull back. You keep your eyes on his as you stroke his hair out of his face. Your heart feels like it’s beating the hardest it has since you were turned. You lean in to kiss him one more time, briefly. 

Then, quietly, you say against his lips, ‘I love you.’

The brief couple of seconds while you wait for a reaction are agonizing. It’s not even a reasonable amount of time for him to be able to piece together a response, but you’re still freaking out regardless. You wanted to say it while you had the chance, but this is definitely way too soon to be dropping something that heavy on his shoulders. You’ve probably bought yourself a one way ticket to scaring him off by being way too much too quickly. You keep fucking doing this, keep getting too attached and too clingy too fast.

He doesn’t look upset or like he wants to leave the apartment immediately, just surprised. Then his lips are pressing against yours again, and he takes a break from kissing you long enough to say it back, breathless and urgent, ‘Yes, I love you too,’ then kissing you again like he needs to underline the statement with action. You think that your heart swells multiple sizes larger inside of your chest.

It’s impossible to keep yourself from smiling into the kiss. You love him so much, and he loves you too. You can feel it as he kisses you. Everything about him is so special, so damn lovable. You don’t think you could ever get tired of him, _ever._ He’s an absolute dork who spends too much time playing Minecraft. Every single time he smiles you swear you fall in love with him a little more. He’s done so much for you, and he has given you so much affection and attention, practically worshipped you during sex, and it all makes it that much harder to wipe the smile on your face away.

You have to pull out of the kiss a second time so you can hide your face against his shoulder. He _loves_ you. 

‘Looks like you broke my face this time,’ you say.

You think you managed to break Hal, so you suppose that you deserve the broken face. You’re still smiling as you cling to him, and you can’t stop. Your face is going to be stuck like this permanently and it’s his fault for telling you that he loves you too. You press a kiss to his shoulder and take a deep breath.

‘Sorry, face. Love your face,’ Hal says. His hand is cupping the back of your head, holding you to his shoulder. You feel him kiss your hair. It’s actually amazing how such a small, relatively innocent gesture can almost make you fall apart. ‘Does this make us boyfriends? Fuck, that sounds stupid, ignore me, I'm emotionally compromised, the best, kindest, most adorablest, hottest, cleverest guy I know just told me he loves me, holy fuck, I'm so …’ he trails off, making a happy noise, his hold on your head getting firmer for a second before he presses his face into your neck.

You can feel the heat pooling in your face as he speaks. You just hope that he can’t feel it. You swallow and lift your head just enough so that you can kiss him on the neck.

‘If ... If you want to be,’ you reply. If your hands weren’t holding him, they’d be shaking. It’s adrenaline-worthy, being _honest_ like this. ‘How do you think I feel? You’re all of those things times ten,’ he mumbles against your neck.

God, as cheesy as it sounds, you feel high off of happiness. It feels weird though because you can’t shake the underlying pain that has gripped you. You’re going to be forced away from him very, _very_ soon, and that physically hurts you to think about. You don’t know how long it’s going to be until you see him again.

You sit up properly so that you can hold him closer. You’re both going to be okay. You’ll come out of this okay. You repeat it over and over in your head in an effort to slow your heart’s pounding. You’re not smiling anymore. The anxiety that’s busy locking itself into every part of your body has made sure of that, but there’s still that feeling of warmth in your chest. 

‘I want,’ he says. ‘I don't care if you have to drink from other people, or what happens there, I just want to be ... want this to be special.’

You tense up at that, frowning. You hadn’t even considered that, but ... no. You’re not doing that. You won’t.

‘I think,’ you start, pulling back enough so that you can look at him. You find one of his hands and thread your fingers with his. ‘I think I can separate my brain from my dick. Especially if it’s not you.’ Just thinking about doing ... _that_ makes you feel like a total scumbag. You would despise yourself if you couldn’t manage to keep it in your pants.‘You know I didn’t fuck that guy the other night, right?’

Of course, the dude’s blood smelled and tasted utterly disgusting, but your point still stands. You think you can manage to push someone away if you have to. You don’t care about having sex with strangers—you’ve been doing that for months—but what you have with Hal changes everything. You won’t do that to him. You would sooner starve.

‘It's ... I'm not questioning your self control or your faithfulness,’ Hal says, eyebrows tight with sincerity. ‘I'm just saying ... I just want you to be okay no matter what and I don't want you worrying about that if it makes it easier. So long as _this_ is ours …’ He puts his hand on your chest.

You might have a reputation of sleeping around, but that habit is a fairly recent one, and you wouldn’t even consider acting on it while in a relationship. You understand what Hal is trying to say here, but that doesn’t make you comfortable with the concept at all. You don’t _want_ anyone other than him, and it would feel like a betrayal to screw someone else even with your vampire fuckery at play.

‘I get what you mean here, but I’m not doing that. I don’t want to do that, and I definitely don’t plan on it.’ His hand on your chest is nice. You decide that you need to be holding both of his hands and move your free one to lay on top of it. He wraps his thumb around your hand almost like he’s playing that hand stack game kids play. You like the closeness. ‘I’m not going to worry about it because it’s not going to happen. I want you, not anyone else. I’m not interested in shacking up with people in vampire prison for the sake of making it easier.’

The thought of having sex with someone you don’t know is totally unappealing to you now. You’ve fallen head over heels for Hal over the course of your existence as a vampire. He’s become the only person you can see yourself being intimate with. You can’t imagine that you would even _enjoy_ sex with anyone other than him, not when he’s as good in bed as he is or when you love him as much as you do.

‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Um, same. I'm just yours.’

You lean forward and kiss him on his cheek, though you don’t pull back immediately. You aren’t going to be able to do things like this with him while you’re in quarantine. It’s not like you haven’t been affectionate as hell with him over the past few days, but you still want to do what you can in the time that you have.

‘I'm gonna send the thing. Maybe you should ... tell your brother?’ Hal says.

You kiss him again on the temple and just stay there for several moments with your head leaning against his. You love him. He loves you. You’re happy and you’re dreading being taken away from him at the same time. It’s going to hurt like hell and being quarantined is going to suck, but you would rather deal with that than let him do something stupid for your sake.

‘Yeah. I think I’m going to tell him and the others. I don’t want anyone storming the place if I’m gone long enough for them to think you’ve finally snapped on my ass and gotten rid of me.’ You kiss him on the lips because you can. Because he’s your boyfriend. That feels so good to think. ‘We need to get dressed too. I don’t want to risk flashing the cops when they get here.’

‘They should be so lucky,’ Hal says, kissing you again. He pulls his hand from under yours, stroking down your chest to your hip. You let your hand rest on his side, feeling his skin under your fingers and every movement of his body as he breathes. You know you’ve thought it and told him the same thing several times, but he’s the most perfect person you’ve ever seen, and somehow he loves _you._

‘You're so fucking gorgeous. Okay, no, getting up before I fall down a loving Dirk rabbit hole.’ He still kisses you once more before he gets up. 

You’re almost tempted to pull him back down, say fuck it to everything else, and finally get that cuddle time you’ve been craving, but you don’t. Watching him bend over to grab his clothes will suffice. 

‘You really need to look in a mirror,’ you tell him. ‘You’re missing out big time if this is what you think gorgeous is.’ 

‘I'm gonna …’ he says, pointing at the door. ‘Dress, get laptop,’ he clarifies. 

He readjusts his clothes in his arms so he can cup your cheek and kiss you. You smile as you kiss him back and watch him as he turns around to leave. It shouldn’t sting as much as it does to be separated from him for just a few moments. It’s going to hurt like an absolute bitch once you’re quarantined. Don’t think about that right now. You haven’t managed to work yourself into a panic attack yet and you don’t plan on it either.

You get up so you can get yourself dressed. You’ll do that, make your room look a little less like two dudes just had sex in it, and inform your circle of friends about what’s happening.

You wonder how it’s possible to love someone so much that you never want to be away from them, and you never want to do anything that would cause you to be separated from them for even a moment. You’re clingy in relationships. You’re very aware of that. However, you don’t think it’s ever been this bad, and Hal is only returning your clinginess. You’re glad he’s doing that rather than getting annoyed, at least. You aren’t upset or displeased by all the time you’ve spent together in the slightest, you’re just worried. For him, mostly.

You put your pajamas away since you barely wore them and get yourself dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. You shouldn’t be cuddling up to Hal and dressing in warmer clothes if you want to get used to your new body temperature, but you’re likely going to have to deal with it when you’re taken away anyway. Might as well enjoy the warmth while you can. You clean up the slight mess the two of you made and brush your teeth. You aren’t looking to impress the police, but you think you should at least do that after how you’ve been keeping your mouth busy.

You get back your room and spend way too long staring at the memo you’ve started on your phone. How the hell are you supposed to word this? You’re staring long enough at the thing that Hal comes back before you’ve even typed out a single word. You move closer to him now that he’s back on your bed. You also kiss him on the cheek. You’re an affectionate bastard when you’re in love. You redirect your attention to the memo. It’s just Dave, Rose, Jane, Roxy, and Jake. You’ve had worse conversations with them before. You decide that being blunt about it is best and start typing.

TT: Hey.  
TT: First, I think I should apologize for being MIA for the past few days. It was a dick move on my part.  
TT: Second, I owe it to you guys to explain why I’ve been offline and why I’m likely going to continue to be for an unknown amount of time.  
TT: I was turned. I had it coming, frankly, and it’s surprising that I managed to fuck around so long and avoid it until now. Hal’s been helping me out with it.  
TT: I wasn’t originally planning on going the legal route with this, but shit happened and now I’m going to be registered and quarantined. I have no fucking idea how long they’ll have me in isolation, so I’m not sure when I’m going to have the opportunity to check in with you all again.  
TT: Because of that, I just want to let you know that I’ll be fine. I can handle isolation.  
TT: And no, I haven’t killed anyone or done anything equally stupid to get my ass found out.

You decide to leave it at that. You’re not sure if you’ll get a reply from anyone this late, but at least it’s out there. You look to Hal. 

‘How’s the email coming along?’ 

He hesitates, eyes still on his screen like he’s in the middle of a thought. You’re used to this kind of response from Hal, you’ve lived with him long enough to know he can’t think and talk at the same time, so you let your mind wander.

You’re beginning to wonder about what you’re allowed to take with you, if anything. Whether or not you’ll be expected to pack clothes and other necessities or if that type of shit is going to be provided. You are _not_ wearing some cheap hospital gown type shit if that’s how it works. Or using a crappy shampoo. You’re picky as hell about your hygiene products and _especially_ your shower supplies. You don’t have any shame over this at all, which should expected given the length of your showers. If they hand you some kind of 3-in-1 shampoo you might just try to plot your escape.

You doubt that you’ll be able to take anything to shave with. Razors aren’t exactly compatible with … Well, not that you have much to offer as far as facial hair goes, as Hal’s passive aggressive Christmas present clearly referenced, but still. You don’t want to be scruffy. You should probably take care of that while you can. While you’re mentally on that subject, you think Hal shaved. And fixed his hair a bit. You kiss him on the cheek again, closer to his jaw this time, and that pretty much confirms your suspicions. God, you love him. You don’t know why you’re thinking that over shaving. Jesus.

‘I want to write what they want to hear,’ he says. ‘I'm not quite sure what that is. I think I'm overthinking it. And I was thinking ... maybe we should say we've been together longer than we have. I don't know if there's an emergency contact kind of situation here, but that whole bullshit romantic partners counting for more than just friends thing might be something.’

You aren’t going to argue with him on the overthinking part. You can easily guess that he’s overthinking this whole thing. Not that you wouldn’t, but still. You can feel your cheeks flush over his idea. You’re so fucking stupid.

‘They’re cops. I wouldn’t overthink it too much. As for what they want to hear …’ You’re kind of stumped on that too, to be honest. ‘I don’t know. You don’t want to go to the extreme and sound like you’re the leader of a vampire hate group, assuming that’s along the lines of the type of shit they want to hear. They likely aren’t going to put too much thought into it if you just explain that your roommate came home with a chunk taken out of his neck and needs to be quarantined, though.’ You pause. ‘And uh, yeah. We’ve been living together for years. They can’t disprove that. I’d say anywhere from six months to a year would earn you emergency contact rights. If that’s a thing.’

Hal nods and his fingers start moving almost immediately. You still kind of hate that he’s a faster typer than you. Your competitiveness isn’t entirely gone.

‘Okay. _Dear sir/madam,_ that's a safe greeting. _This email is to inform you that my boyfriend Dirk was bitten by a vampire last night and turned without his consent. I'm looking after him and he seems okay for the moment, but I'd very much appreciate_ ... Is that too much? I'm thinking if I phrase it like I want their help and trust the system rather than straight out 'vampires bad' or whatever.’

Hal is calling you his boyfriend in the email. You know that’s part of the point, that you just discussed this, but holy shit does it make your heart feel all warm and tight in your chest. There’s a voice in the back of your head that keeps telling you to not get your hopes up because you’ll inevitably fuck this one up too, but it’s easy to ignore at the moment thanks to the wave of sappy feelings that’s currently overwhelming you. You have a _boyfriend._ There’s nothing you can think of that really compares to what it feels like to have that knowledge.

You still think it’s sweet of him to read this shit out to you. You think this time that it’s more because of the fact that he’s overthinking this thing and wants your opinion on it, but that doesn’t change your view on it. Maybe you should have done the same for him with your memo where you were basically coming out as a vampire.

You rest your head on his shoulder and lay your arm across his stomach. You didn’t get to take your time doing this both times that you attempted to tonight, so you’re going to indulge in it now. He smells so nice. In this position, you can easily smell the shampoo you used to wash his hair, and it takes no effort to detect the toothpaste on his breath when he speaks. That just makes you want to kiss him, but you’re unwilling to move from your spot against him to do that.

‘Hal,’ you say. ‘It’s fine. Again, they’re cops. I don’t think they’re going to read into this like it’s an assignment in a literature class, especially since it’s likely that the majority of the emails they get border on incomprehensible. Just tell them that I need to be registered and quarantined for the safety of myself and others, thank them, and send it. Don’t worry so much about it.’

Hal gets the email done and sends it before putting his laptop aside. You’re quick to wrap both arms around him and hug him close to you once he hides his face away against your neck. You aren’t the greatest at detecting emotions or anything of that sort, but you have the feeling that something just shifted in Hal. He looks ... unnerved, you think. You wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s upset, though that’s due to the fact that you’re both stoic assholes. It would take _a lot_ to warrant that particular word.

‘Love you,’ he mumbles.

You kiss him on the top of his head. His hair is so soft against your face. You think you’re just going to stay here for the rest of your life. Surely the police would understand. Hal saying those words is enough to get your face burning, and you swear that you can feel your blush reaching up to your ears. It’s nothing more than a couple of words, but they mean so much and have such a huge impact on you when they’re coming from him. You think your chest is going to burst.

‘I love you too,’ you tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached Unite Synchronisation, folks. Next chapter is gonna be big, and from now on both _Temptations_ fics will update at the same time. 
> 
> The bubble is bursting. The information is no longer identical. The plot intrudes.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vampire police: descend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up until this point, both parts in Temptations have been basically describing the same events but from different perspectives. I've made an effort to edit them so that there's enough variety in them that it's not a chore to read both, but from now on there are going to be some serious divergences. You can absolutely still just read one path or the other, but both parts will be released at the same time going forward!
> 
> You can find Hal's side of the story, [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18507811/chapters/43860277).

He’s so perfect, so amazing. You don’t like the feeling you have that something is up with him. He deserves to be happy at every conceivable moment. You want to do that for him, want to do everything in your power to make him happy all the time.

‘Are you okay?’ 

Hal pulls back from completely pressed into your neck so that he’s cheek to cheek with you instead, kissing you gently and keeping close enough that you can’t see him properly. 

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I mean, no, this sucks. I'd do anything to keep you here and safe with me.’

There’s an overwhelming amount of dread that has settled in your stomach. You can’t pretend that you’re totally unaffected by what’s going to happen. You’re going to be taken away from Hal and shipped off to some holding facility, and you’re going to be expected to just deal with it and accept it. It leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

However, you can do your best to ignore it for the time being. You don’t know how long you have with Hal before you have to leave. You intend to make every second worthwhile. The ball of anxiety that’s gradually working its way deeper and deeper within you isn’t helping with that goal, but you won’t let that stop you. If you get lost in your worries about the near future then you won’t ever absorb the present.

‘I know,’ you say. ‘You’re way too willing to do dumb shit for my sake. I’m going to be fine though. I promise.’ You kiss him on the lips, closing your eyes to let him keep hiding. ‘Okay? And then I’ll get out and we won’t have to worry about it anymore.’

He’s so close. You love it. You’re already worried about how he’s going to handle himself once you’re gone. You know that he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and that there’s a very low probability that anything serious will happen to him, but that doesn’t do anything to silence your concern. You want to be with him. You need to be near him so you can protect him.

'Yeah,' he says, and you think you helped a little, he sounds better. 'Yeah, you'll probably be running the place by day two, scheduling what days everyone's allowed to wash their sheets or whatever.' 

‘Yeah, sure,’ you say. ‘Remember how much you bitched about that when I brought it up for the first time?’

You stroke the hair out of his face as he straightens himself into a less dejected posture. There were a few times while you were adjusting to living with Hal that you considered just moving out and finding somewhere else to live, but you’re stubborn. Most of your interactions have been competitive since the very beginning, and leaving would have meant simply handing him victory. Now that you look back on it, you’re glad you never left.

You’re closing your eyes and leaning into Hal when you hear the knock at the door. Your body practically goes rigid, and you’re struggling to fight down the territorial instincts that vampires apparently have. Your hold on Hal is tight, but not painfully so. It’s more protective than anything else. You don’t want anyone coming into your home at all, but you want someone harming him in any way even less. You know that’s not going to happen, that the police aren’t here to hurt him, but you can’t shake that feeling.

It’s only amplified and made worse by the knowledge that you’re supposed to leave him. You’re scared shitless of what might happen to him. The fear you feel is entirely irrational, but acknowledging that does nothing to get rid of it. Hal’s kissing you instead of acknowledging the door but you can feel his awareness in how tense his body feels under your hands. You don’t want to leave him. Your mind and body are screaming that you can’t. 

‘I love you so fucking much,’ you tell him before you go back to kissing him. Maybe if you just keep doing this and ignore the knocking at the door, nothing will happen to the two of you.

‘It's all okay,’ he says, stroking your back. ‘I love you. We're okay. Is there anything I can do to make this better?’

You don’t think that it’s a good idea for you to be the one to answer that door. Hearing the person on the other side knock is enough to set off the alarm bells in your head, and something tells you that there would be a decent chance of you doing something horrifically stupid. You can’t believe that you’re so on edge already over something as small as someone standing at the front door.

You nod slowly. You’re clinging to him and you don’t ever want to let go. You were the one who wanted to go through with this. You’ve approached the sketchiest vampires you’ve ever seen before, you should be able to do this. You take a deep breath and allow yourself a few more moments with him. Your chest shouldn’t be aching already. You aren’t even a foot away from him yet.

You let go of him and chew on your bottom lip nervously.

‘Just ... let me hold your hand,’ you say. ‘If you’re okay with that,’ you add a couple of seconds later. As ridiculous as it is, the second knock almost makes you flinch. Your nerves are all over the place. Your heart is beating way too hard. You want to wrap yourself around him protectively and never let go. You focus on keeping your breathing even as you work on getting to your feet.

Hal doesn’t stand up immediately. As you’re looking back at him to see why, he picks your hand up and presses it to his lips, looking up at you with _so_ much love.

There’s no way that you are going to be placed in quarantine, not when Hal is clearly determined to make you explode with affection. You suppose that’s not a terrible way to go out. You think you’re cool with the idea of dying because your blush finally reached such an extreme temperature that your body couldn’t handle it. You smile just a little bit. You’re anxious as hell and busy fighting down the urge to tear apart whoever is at the door, but the kiss to your hand helps. You love him.

You help him to his feet and squeeze his hand back. You’re going to have to let go of his hand at some point tonight. You’re not going to think about that. You’re freaking out enough as it is without adding a panic attack about the inevitable to your plate.

You stay close to Hal as you two head to the door. You’re going to be fine, you know that. You think that this must be what separation anxiety feels like for animals. You know you’re clingy, but you don’t think it has ever been this bad for you in the past.

Hal opens the door and ... Yeah, these two look like the type that would be sent out on vampire calls. Tough as nails, leather jackets and too much confidence in a place they’ve never been. You swallow, trying to ignore the fact that your fangs are attempting to make an appearance again, and try not to squeeze Hal’s hand to death. 

‘Good evening!’ the woman says. ‘I am Neophyte Pyrope, this is my partner Detective Ampora, and we're here to follow up on the report of a new vampire at this residence!’ She grins up at you both, takes in your appearances with an obvious up and down and continues. ‘May we come in to discuss the next step of your afterlife?’

‘Yeah,’ you say, stepping to the side so you’re not in the way. In addition to Hal’s presence and his hand on yours, you think one thing keeping you from mindlessly attacking Pyrope and Ampora is that their blood smells as shitty as Jade’s and the guy that caused you to get sick.

You follow both of them into your own lounge and let Hal pull you onto the couch. You never thought it made much sense to have two couches in here, and you’ve expressed as much a multitude of times. However, now that you’re in this situation, you’re immensely grateful that you have two. This couch is yours and Hal’s. You don’t think you could refrain from tearing someone’s throat out with your teeth if you had to sit next to either of the cops. They don’t _belong_ here. This isn’t their home to just demand to enter. This is just for Hal and you, _no one_ else, and—

You take a deep breath and try to appear less tense than you feel. It probably doesn’t work at all. You never think like this. Vampirism is fucking batshit.

Pyrope sits on the spare couch and you manage not to lose your shit. Ampora continues to stand, taking in your apartment in measured looks when he isn’t keeping his eyes on you.

You have the impression that you’re already squeezing Hal’s hand to death, so you try to lighten your grip. It’s ridiculously difficult. He puts his other hand on top of yours and you mimic him out of instinct.

‘So! When were you turned?’ Pyrope asks.

‘The 7th?’ Hal says, looking at you for confirmation. ‘Sorry, it's him that's the ... He wasn't supremely cool when a friend came over, I'm not just one of those douchebags who doesn't let his boyfriend speak for himself. I mean, I might be that too, I don't know—’

‘Yes.’ Could you possibly sound more like you have a stick shoved up your ass? ‘Yeah, sounds right.’ You’re going to trust Hal’s mental math here and agree with him. You want him to keep doing the talking; your fangs are _definitely_ poking out.

‘And what has your diet been like?’

‘Him,’ you answer, as Hal says, ‘Me,’ at exactly the same time. 

You promptly direct your gaze to the floor and wish you could sink into it. Being on the verge of committing murder seems to make embarrassment feel even worse. At least your boyfriend is exactly the same kind of ridiculous as you.

‘Do you know your blood type, human?’ Ampora asks. 

The way that Ampora addresses Hal has you throwing an internal shit fit. You don’t care if he doesn’t know Hal’s name. That doesn’t mean he gets to act like an asshole to him. This dude has the physical advantage over everyone in the room, but that doesn’t stop something within you from urging you to spray his blood all over the walls. You are _definitely_ overreacting and need to calm the hell down, but it feels impossible.

‘My name's Hal, I assume you know this is Dirk. And I don't know …’

Ampora advances and you don’t know how, but you somehow figure out how to make more room for tension in your body when Ampora reaches into his coat. There’s no logical reason that he would be pulling out a weapon, but you’ve come to terms with the fact that logic and rationality don’t mean anything to you when you’re like this. It’s just a white box, though.

‘Pop your finger in, there'll be a little prick and then we'll know!’ Pyrope says. ‘I'm afraid it's important, especially if you've been his sole source of blood this whole time.’

Upon hearing Pyrope’s explanation, you can’t keep your fangs tucked away anymore. You squeeze Hal’s hand, close your eyes, and take a moment to just breathe. Otherwise, this situation’s going to turn into a disaster.

When you open your eyes again, you can’t stop yourself from glaring. You can’t keep the pissy tone out of your voice either.

‘Do you _seriously_ think it’s a good idea to prick a dude’s finger for blood next to a new, overly territorial vampire?’ 

‘That's what the box is for,’ Pyrope says. ‘It should mask the sight and smell. We can restrain you if you think that's necessary!’

You think that Pyrope is way too enthusiastic when she offers to restrain you. You’re beginning to wonder if all cops are this fucking weird or if it’s just these two.

You think you should be restrained. You’re struggling from the effort of refraining from attempting to tear a couple of jugular enough as it is. You don’t imagine that it’s going to be any better when Hal gets his finger pricked even if the thing is made to prevent you from losing your shit. Except he’s already sticking his finger in the damn thing, and thankfully you have the sense to turn your head away while he does it.

‘We good?’ Hal asks.

You don’t look back at Hal until he speaks. You can’t help but glance at his finger, but you don’t see any trace of what happened. Thank fuck. You feel like a bomb that’s ready to blow at any moment. You can’t get your fangs to go back where they belong, and you’re terribly unstable.

Much to your relief, Ampora moves back away and Hal leans against you. You do the same and turn your head so you can kiss him on the cheek. You’re really going to miss him.

Hal squeezing your hand doesn’t go unnoticed. You love him so much. You’re certain that attempting to keep a vampire calm under these conditions is no easy task, and you have no doubt in your mind that he’s as anxious as you are, but he’s still here with you and trying to help you. You want to kiss him on the lips and hug him close, but most of your kisses tend to turn into making out. You’re not interested in doing that in front of the police.

‘AB negative,’ Ampora reports.

You frown a bit when Ampora announces Hal’s blood type. You’re pretty sure that type isn’t common in any way.

‘That's inconvenient,’ Pyrope says.

‘Why, what does that mean?’ Hal asks.

‘It's been long enough that Dirk will have developed a ... bias. I take it neither myself or Detective Ampora are smelling appealing to you, Dirk?’

You shake your head.

‘Not at all,’ you answer. ‘You smell nauseating, actually. No offense.’

‘That's unfortunate,’ Pyrope sighs. She takes off her shades and leans forward. ‘It's possible that A or B negative will be acceptable, but they're not exactly common either.’

You’ll be able to deal with the blood situation. You’re just going to have to hold back from vomiting. You can do that. You couldn’t do it when you came home the other night, sure, but you’re just going to have to try harder. If that doesn’t work, you’ll deal with it. You’re going to be quarantined, after all. Those places are designed to hold batshit fledgling vampires.

‘Lucky you have a donor sitting right here then,’ Hal says. ‘I get and approve of you quarantining him, obviously that's a really _solid_ law you've got going there and I just want him to be safe, but I could go too, right?’

‘No. Hell fucking no. That is the stupidest idea I have ever heard come out of your mouth. You’re not doing that.’

From what you’ve heard about holding facilities, they are absolutely hellish. You might not want to be separated from Hal, but there’s no way in hell that you want him putting himself through that. Surely he wouldn’t even be allowed to do that, right?

Your grip on Hal’s hand is a lot tighter now, you know that, but what scares you even more than not being around to protect Hal is the idea of him getting thrown in the hole with you.

‘I'm afraid Dirk's right,’ Pyrope says gently. 

‘You don't want to go in there, kid,’ Ampora says. ‘It's an unfortunate necessity we don't inflict on humans.’

‘Does he even need to go? He's doing really well, we're keeping him safe, he's still the same …’ 

You’re relieved when they tell Hal that he can’t go with you, though at the same time there’s a small part of you that is deeply disappointed about this. It’s selfish, stupid, and nothing but a product of the fear you have of letting go of him. You try to reassure yourself. Maybe you’ll get out sooner than most. You haven’t been doing terribly with Hal, and you’re certain that you’re going to manage decently in quarantine. You have to if you want to see him again as soon as possible.

‘Ampora will take you through the paperwork, Hal, unless you'd like to nominate a different human,’ Pyrope says, as if Hal hadn’t asked them to completely violate federal policy for your sake. ‘And I'll get you all safe for travelling, Dirk!’

Hal’s not the only person you’re going to miss. You chew on the inside of your mouth as you think about the fact that it’s going to be weeks, maybe even months, before you see your friends and family again. You have the urge to check your phone to see if anyone has seen your message yet, but you don’t know how to let go of Hal’s hand right now.

‘Right,’ you say. Surely they aren’t going to muzzle you or something equally degrading. ‘What exactly does that involve?’

Hal disentangles himself and moves over to the table with Ampora as Pyrope bends down to dig through the bad she brought.

‘We're going to start you with one of these,’ Pyrope says, holding out what looks like a mouth-guard. It has room for your fangs to expand and retract and is slightly gummy, so it'll mould around your teeth. ‘I'm going to let you put it in yourself. It's going to be slightly harder for you to talk but you should adjust.’

You can’t help frowning at it. This brings back memories of having braces and wearing retainers after those were gone. You reluctantly take it from her and spend longer than necessary staring at it. There is no way you aren’t going to sound like a dumbass with this thing over your teeth. Regardless, you put it on anyway and try to get used to how it feels.

‘Thanks,’ you say, because she’s a police officer and it seems like you should thank her no matter how weird the mouth-guard feels. You prod it a couple of times before glancing over at Hal. 

You can’t believe that he would try to go with you into quarantine, except you can. He’s so willing to fuck his life up for you, and you hate that. You don’t want him doing something stupid for you.

She waits until you’re moderately comfortable and reaches into her bag for more gear. When she realises she's still holding her shades, she pokes them into her hair before continuing. She pulls out a pair of what look like bracelets but are presumably handcuffs, except they don’t have a chain connecting them.

‘Oh, nice,’ you say before you can help yourself. 

Huh. You’re basically being arrested and cuffed for being a vampire. That’s fucked up, you think, but you aren’t surprised. You hold your hands out for her.

You haven’t ever been in any kind of situation where you’ve had to wear handcuffs. Not the real ones that the police carry, anyway. Pyrope puts them on you tight enough that you wouldn’t be able to slip out of them if you tried, so they’re mildly uncomfortable. Nothing too bothersome. You wonder how they prepare cases more extreme than your own.

When they're attached, she examines your nails to make sure they're not too long. The urge to attack both of them flares up again as she turns your hands over, but you manage to suppress it until she lets go. At least it won’t be quite as easy for you to kill anyone now.

‘You'll be provided with all the necessities,’ she says. ‘You'll find that for the most part the staff will be reciprocal with respect. The ones that are courteous as you've been for us so far are treated with courtesy in turn. It's easier for everyone involved if we don't have to manage behaviours. We'll leave Hal with an address he can send letters to. Will he be able to pass that on to anyone else who might need it?’

You nod. You expected as much. It’s how most things tend to work in the world. You’re more focused on the last thing she said. You would rather speak to Hal directly, but that isn’t an option. Letters, though? That’s something you can look forward to. And not just from Hal, hopefully. 

‘He should be able to, yeah.’

‘You've done well!’ Pyrope says. She smiles with all her teeth, head tilting up like someone much younger than she is. 

‘Uh, thanks?’ you say. You’re not sure how you should respond to someone telling you that you’ve done well at letting yourself be restrained.

‘How's the paperwork going, Dual?’ she calls over to the table.

‘It's fine,’ Ampora answers testily. ‘It hasn't been that long since I did this part.’

Pyrope grins at Dirk. ‘I've been itching for a tame one so I could do the restraints and put him on paperwork duty. Lot of clients have a second thought about fighting when Ampora is the one cuffing them. Not to say I can't kick his butt on the practice mats, but image counts for something.’

‘Stop that,’ Ampora says. ‘Stop _chatting.’_

It’s ... awkward watching Pyrope and Ampora interact. You don’t know how to react to it, not when you barely know them and they’re only here to make sure you don’t kill anyone while they haul you off to isolation. You understand what she means though. Ampora is intimidating to look at, and you can see how people would be discouraged from causing a scene with him around.

The longer you’re away from Hal, the worse your anxiety seems to get. That is definitely going to be an issue once you leave. Much to your relief, he comes back to you immediately after finishing up with the paperwork. You don’t waste a moment in getting an arm around him and finding his hand with your own. 

‘Alright, time to go!’ Pyrope says. ‘Make sure you don't have any items, jewelry perhaps, that you don't want confiscated.’ 

No. He only just came back to you, you can’t leave now.

‘Can we have a minute?’ Hal asks.

It isn’t fair. You don’t want to be away from him. You can’t. You should just solve the problem by killing these two and running away with him after, but you won’t. You’re not going to give in to that urge. Instead, you look at Pyrope, hoping that she’ll be sympathetic enough to allow you just a few minutes together.

She looks to Ampora and Ampora nods. Thank fuck. They leave the room and you’re reaching for Hal as soon as they’re gone. You need to hold him close to you and never let go. You’re so desperate to be near him that you want to break reality into pieces so that you can move beyond the barriers of your bodies and _really_ be close to him. You hold Hal like your life is dependent upon it. You never want to leave him, never want to be anywhere but with him, preferably with your arms wrapped around him.

You kiss him as well as you can manage with the mouth-guard over your teeth. He laughs when he feels it, and it’s such a beautiful sound. You want to stay by his side so badly. You swear that you can feel your eyes burning, but you ignore it. There’s no way that you’re going to let yourself cry in front of him over this.

‘I love you,’ he says. 

‘I love you too,’ you tell him. ‘So fucking much.’

‘I'd still make a run for it, if you wanted,’ Hal whispers.

You laugh and shake your head. You want to rub your eyes but you aren’t going to risk drawing attention to any moisture that might be in them. 

‘You already know that I’m not going to let you do that.’

You kiss his cheek and follow it up with his lips. Again. And again. You hold him tighter as you try to memorize the feeling of his body against your own.

‘I'll write you letters every day, like _The Notebook,’_ he says. ‘You'll be so sick of hearing from me you won't even mind being away. You won't have time to do anything else but read them, you won't get bored or lonely at all.’

You aren’t the only one struggling to keep yourself together here. Hal’s voice is cracking. Hearing him like that makes your desire to never let go of him a thousand times stronger. It also makes your heart feel like it’s about to split in two. He should never sound like that. There shouldn’t ever be anything that hurts him so badly that he can’t speak normally.

You laugh, though, when he mentions _The Notebook._

‘You’re so cheesy,’ you tell him. You think your hands are shaking a bit, and you hope that it’s unnoticeable since your fingers are gripping his shirt as tightly as they are. ‘I won’t ever get sick of hearing from you, dumbass. I’ll write back for every letter you send me.’

You tangle your fingers in his hair and loop a few locks around them. You have to feel your favorite parts of him one last time, but that’s a difficult feat to accomplish when you love every part of him. You squeeze him gently with your arm and take in a shaky breath. You don’t want to say goodbye. Your throat tightens around the word when you try and you can’t get it out. 

‘I’ll see you soon, okay?’

He nods, moving your head with his with how close you are together. You have to fight down the urge to grab him and kiss him again when he pulls away and stands up. You aren’t ready to go. You know you never will be, and that does nothing to change how badly it hurts. None of this is fair. You wish you had more time together. You don’t think that even eternity with him would be enough time.

You take his hand and pull yourself to your feet with it. You don’t let go of his hand, and Hal makes no move to pull his fingers from yours, thank fucking god. 

‘It might only be a couple of weeks,’ he says. ‘Back before you even know it, and I won't have to figure out where we keep the vacuum.’

You laugh, but it’s nervous and quiet. ‘You better figure out where the vacuum is before then.’ You stroke his hand with your thumb and then bring it to your mouth to kiss. ‘I’m not coming home to the floors looking like a petting zoo for dust bunnies.’

Hal starts walking. It’s ridiculously hard for you to follow. You want to dig your heels in and refuse to leave him. Despite this, you walk with him, albeit reluctantly. Everything is going to be okay. You repeat it over and over in your head like a mantra.

You meet Pyrope and Ampora at the door, but Hal doesn’t let go of you.

‘Ready?’ Pyrope asks.

‘If there's anything I can do for him, please tell me,’ Hal says. ‘If there's visiting hours or if I can send him, I don't know, flowers or something …’ 

You aren’t going to get your hopes up, but you really want there to be some kind of visitation option. As stupid as it is, you’re missing him now and you haven’t even left the building yet. It’s a feeling that threatens to worsen the instincts that already have such a tight grip on you.

Pyrope nods and Hal turns back to you. Normally you would feel hesitant and awkward about being openly affectionate with someone in front of a couple of total strangers, especially since those strangers are police, but it’s not like this is just a simple day trip. You don’t have it in you to care about those things when you would rather be ensuring that Hal knows how much you love him.

‘I love you,’ he tells you quietly. ‘I'll miss you. I'll see you so soon though, you're gonna ace this.’

You can’t bring yourself to care about the lack of privacy. You prioritize letting Hal know that you love him over any discomfort coiling within you.

‘I love you too,’ you say. ‘You bet your ass I am. We’re going to be alright.’ Your voice has a shake to it, but you don’t care. You have to speak to him. You kiss him back deeply before you pull away. Your entire heart aches down to the very core once you let go of his hand.

Pyrope seems to be trying to help both of you out by smiling at you, but it’s hard to take it as anything remotely comforting when she’s activating the handcuffs so that your hands are bound together and humming. She and Ampora seem to have an unsettling aura around them, one that’s unshakable, so that doesn’t help either. 

Everything else the two cops say is drowned out as you look at Hal. This is the last time you’re going to see him. Not forever, but acknowledging that does nothing to ease the panic gripping you by the throat. Your fangs aren’t going back where they belong anytime soon, and neither is the feeling that you should be fighting someone right now. 

Your legs feel heavier than they should as you’re led away from your apartment, from Hal. By the time you’re out of the building, your hands are trembling uncontrollably and you can feel moisture collecting in your eyes and threatening to spill. You don’t just cry—you never do—but you swear that your heart is being torn in half in your chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested in a playlist, you can find it on YouTube [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLuZy0qHcAMA_uj6wC6UFY43B6A-rdXpWC). Credit for making it goes to my wonderful RP partner! I haven't stopped listening to it for like the past week.


	19. Chapter 19

Pyrope guides you into the back seat of a cop car, holding your elbow so you don't unbalance. The pissy vampire part of your brain wants you to yank your arm out of Pyrope’s hand, but you don’t. You’ve been good so far. You aren’t going to ruin that or any benefits your decent behavior might bring you. You’ve never had to pour this much attention into controlling yourself. You aren’t enjoying it at all. Ampora seems happy enough to let her look after you, walking around to the driver's seat while you get settled. 

You try to keep your eyes trained on the window as the car pulls out. You can feel Pyrope watching you, sitting almost sideways in her seat as if she’s just facing Ampora, and you’re keen on avoiding making awkward eye contact with her by looking anywhere other than straight ahead. 

‘We've got enough night to make it to the facility, right?’ Pyrope asks. 

Ampora looks at the time on the dashboard for a second before his eyes are back on the road. 

‘Yeah, with enough of a cushion in case of traffic. Not that that's likely.’

There’s this feeling that you’ve committed some great wrong by leaving Hal and the apartment, and it has your stomach twisted up in knots. The further the car gets, the worse your worries get. You feel like puking, but you manage not to. You can’t help but be somewhat disappointed by their words. Your shaking isn’t stopping, you feel like shit, and your anxiety is about to drive you insane. Putting an early end to this with the sun is all too appealing. 

But you saw how much Hal was hurting back at home, you heard it in his voice. You think he would eventually get over it, but you feel guilty just for entertaining the idea.

‘He's not looking great,’ Pyrope murmurs, leaning closer into Ampora. ‘Should we sedate him?’ 

You redirect your gaze from the window to the front of the car when you hear Pyrope asking if you should be sedated. She’s quiet, but not quiet enough that you can’t pick up on what she’s saying. Is she seriously considering knocking you unconscious because you’re zoning out? You know it’s a habit that can fuck you over, but you didn’t think there would be a time when the consequences would turn out this extreme. 

Then again, if you feel like a ball of nerves ready to snap and chew on some necks, you probably look like one too. 

Ampora shakes his head. ‘He'll be fine. It'll look better if he doesn’t need any intervention from us.’ 

Pyrope leans back against the door again, chewing her cheek. 

‘Music?’ she says at a normal volume after a long stretch of driving in silence. ‘Your choice, Dirk, we have ... Dual, are you serious? _ABBA, The Beatles,_ or _Simon & Garfunkel.’_

That’s ... not the most exciting list of music options you’ve ever been given, admittedly. You don’t think you have the attention span to focus on music anyway.

‘Anything but _The Beatles,’_ you settle on. 

‘You could be a good partner and get the paperwork done now,’ Ampora suggests. 

‘While the car's moving? Is that why your handwriting is so bad?’

It’s easy to just follow their conversation, you think. The dynamic they have going on is interesting, to say the least, if not somewhat amusing at times.

‘Okay, but I can too easily imagine Dual sitting alone listening to _The Sound of Silence,_ so that leaves us with _ABBA.’_ Pyrope puts the CD in and watches Ampora with interest. 

‘I'm not singing, if that's what you're waiting for,’ Ampora says. ‘I'm a professional.’ The "unlike some" gets left unspoken. 

"Not everyone has the ear for singing," Pyrope says. Ampora's grip on the steering wheel tightens. 

You’re fiddling with the handcuffs, doing nothing more than testing the strength of the magnetic field holding them together to keep yourself busy while you listen to Pyrope and Ampora. However, the route that their conversation ends up taking has you doubling down on staring at your hands. You really, really don’t think it’s a good idea to laugh at the police when they’re transporting you to quarantine, but they aren’t making it easy. 

‘I'm the sweetest damn singer you ever heard of. I'm not singing on duty.’

You can’t quite keep yourself from snorting. It’s hard not to when the person saying it looks like he’s killed before. 

Pyrope hums along with the opening refrain of Waterloo. It's not even approaching on key. Ampora grits his teeth and continues to drive.

Pyrope’s humming isn’t helping you keep a straight face either. She grins at you conspiratorially, like she wants to make you laugh. 

You’re quick to look away from Pyrope like you just got caught doing something you shouldn’t be. Probably a common reaction around police. This isn’t at all how you pictured the ride to whatever holding facility you’re heading to going. It’s almost like you’ve somehow stumbled into a weird but friendly outing with a couple of cops, except you’re being quarantined. 

‘You know, I don't think there's much singing in quarantine, unless you're the kind that sings on your own. Bet you'd love to hear Officer Ampora sing if he's as good as he says, huh, Dirk? As a last treat? Surely Officer Ampora isn't so heartless—’

‘You're not clever and you're not gettin' to me,’ Ampora says. Pyrope grins even wider, somehow. 

‘I was top of my class at the academy, I'm very clever. C'mon, Dual, what'll it take for me to get my way?’

You smirk. How much trouble can you really get into when she’s encouraging this? 

‘Oh, you know it,” you say. “I’m thoroughly convinced that hearing his singing is my last shot at redemption. I’m already a vampire, so that’s condemning me to burn in hell alongside a plethora of other sins, but maybe I have a shot at being saved if I hear that sweet voice, you know?’

You don’t know how it’s possible for her grin to get even wider than it already is. You also don’t know how much you should push here. The answer is probably “not a lot” or “not at all,” but it’s evident that you aren’t stopping. What do you really have to lose? 

‘What if I kick the bucket in quarantine and my last wish goes unfulfilled? My wish being to hear that singing voice, of course.’

Ampora's knuckles are white around the steering wheel, perfect at 10 and 2. Pyrope doesn't seem to feel like your impressive wheedling needs any further backup, and she looks even more delighted than before. 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that you’re about to get slapped. Not that you could blame him, really. You’ll be the first to admit that you’re being a little shit by goading a cop into singing. You aren’t the only one doing it though, and you wonder if Pyrope pulls this shit on Ampora often. He seems easy to mess with. And fun. You could see someone like her taking pleasure in that on a daily basis. 

The next song starts and Ampora sighs heavily. He takes a hand off the wheel to flick past it and then the next one. Pyrope looks at you to share her excited anticipation. You glance between Pyrope and Ampora when he starts skipping through songs. _This is so fucking weird,_ you think, but you aren’t complaining. It’s leagues better than the awkward silence. 

He stops on the iconic opening notes of _Mamma Mia,_ evidently not bothered by the high vocals for a guy who talks with the kind of rough depth that almost belongs on the docks.

‘I been cheated by you since you know when / So I made up my mind, it must come to an end,’ he sings. 

‘Oh my god,’ Pyrope breathes. 

‘Look, if you're gonna make fun—’ 

‘No, Dual, you're good, keep going!’ 

He doesn't exactly have a voice fit for radio, but he's definitely in tune, and he's also apparently easy to flatter into continuing once he's started. You stay quiet to avoid making him stop. No one’s going to believe you if you tell them this happened.

When Pyrope joins in for the chorus, she gets the order of the lines wrong and is not remotely in key. She is ... not made for singing, obviously. That, or she doesn’t give enough of a shit to really try right now, though you don’t imagine you would either if you were in her shoes. This isn’t exactly a concert, and you’re hardly a proper audience. 

Ampora turns the music down but not off and stops singing. He doesn’t look capable of smiling with his whole mouth, but that's definitely something positive happening there.

‘Okay, I might have the voice of an angel, Red, but you're gonna make the kid try and strangle himself on his seatbelt if you keep that up. Tell me you have a backup for the talent show, I have to organise a new partner if you're gonna drag me down like that.’

‘That has to be workplace bullying,’ Pyrope says, looking far too cheery for it to stick. ‘You'd hate to be saddled with one of the other neophytes.’

‘Maybe this'd be enough to get me off babysittin' duty, you ever think'a that?’

‘I think I'll need workplace therapy. A workplace service animal to comfort me. Definitely workplace training on resilience.’

‘You're gonna need a workplace burial if you keep this up. I blame you for this, Fangs, if you were a delinquent we wouldn't have time for this bullshit.’

At least the drive to your temporary isolation has been interesting. Not at all what you expected in any way whatsoever, but you aren’t going to bitch about that when what you expected was depressing as hell. 

You can tell that your face isn’t perfectly stoic, and that sucks, because you shouldn’t be looking amused when you’re in the process of losing your freedom. You can’t seem to do anything about it.

‘Do you use that nickname for every vampire you meet or am I just special?’ you ask. ‘But yeah, it’s totally my fault. I seem to have this effect on people. It’s a major problem.’

‘How does that work, _Dirk,’_ Pyrope asks, emphasising your name and nudging Ampora's arm. ‘Is your life a musical? Do people dance as well? Can you make Dualscar dance?’

‘Red, I swear to God …’ Ampora growls. 

‘Say it in a song, Detective!’

‘Do you want to ride in the back with Fangs?’

Pyrope laughs like she doesn't give a damn whether her laugh is pretty or not, which it isn't, but it’s happy as hell. Ampora isn't trying as hard as he was to stay grumpy, either, smiling at the road like he doesn't mind Pyrope's efforts to make the trip a little less horrible.

‘I’m not sure that even I know,’ you say. 'I just know that all my life, I’ve been cursed with spontaneous outbursts of singing. It’s more inconvenient than you think.’

You feel relaxed, almost. Not completely in any sense, but you aren’t shaking as badly anymore. 

‘My birth was a traumatic event because the hospital staff could barely stop singing long enough to get me out. Tragic, I know. As far as I know, dancing hasn’t been a real issue. I think I prefer the singing as opposed to dancing.’

This conversation makes no sense whatsoever, but it doesn’t even come close to the stupidest one you’ve ever had. 

‘I wish I could make him dance. That would really finish off my bucket list, but we’ll just have to settle on persuasive techniques if we want to see that.’ You turn your attention to Ampora. ‘By the way, I would have clapped for your singing skills, but I don’t think I can give you the applause you deserve with my hands literally tied.’

Pyrope cackles again. 

‘Are you happy, Red? You got him out of his shell and this is what we have.’ 

‘I'll shout tonight if you—’ 

‘Red,’ Ampora interrupts. ‘Nearly there. Chief has a lower tolerance of your ways than I do.’

That tension manages to come back full force now that you know you’re close to your destination. _At least let there be decent showers,_ you think. You can take everything that’s thrown at you, but at the end of the day, you just might snap if you can’t zone out under the spray of hot water. It’s an okay substitute for Hal, too. 

God, you miss him so much. You’ve officially earned the title of the most dramatic person ever, but you don’t know how you’ll make it without him. You can, you know you can, but you don’t want to. You want to go back home to him so badly. 

Pyrope twists in her seat and smiles reassuringly at Dirk. 

‘No need to be nervous, we'll see you all the way in. We'll have to put on our business faces, but we're still on your side.’

‘Red,’ Ampora cautions. ‘We're on the side of the law. Which ... _Dirk_ also is. Now shut up.’

‘I’m not nervous,’ you insist, but you totally are. The fact that your fangs haven’t once retracted inside the mouth-guard for the duration of the whole ride is proof of that. 

You choose to go back to looking out the window, though this time you’re watching for any signs of this holding facility. You’ve never seen one in person.

Pyrope gives you one last smile and then faces the front, straightening in a way she hasn't all drive. Ampora turns the music down even further, but not quite off. He turns the corner and approaches the building. It doesn't look that different to a normal apartment block or office complex, except that there's shiny barbed wire along the roof. 

You don’t like how serious things have gotten. Of course, the situation has been serious from the start, but you were liking just fucking around with them. It makes it harder to resent them for taking you away from Hal and your home. You consider that a good thing. You don’t generally hate people at first sight. You want to get this weird instinctual behavior calmed down and under control as soon as possible. 

The car crawls into an undercover parking lot and stops just inside the entrance. Pyrope hands a badge to Ampora and he passes hers and his own to a woman in the security booth. She checks both and hands them back before pressing a button with a loud thunk and raising the bar to let them in. 

You stay silent while the car is stopped at the security booth. There’s a tingling sensation gradually spreading through you—the kind that makes your fangs ache in a bad way and has you closing your eyes until the car is moving again. You’re repulsed by everyone’s blood but Hal’s, yet you’re still itching to do something incredibly stupid and terrible. How the hell does that even make sense?

Ampora drives on. Once they're out of earshot and circling for a park, Pyrope twists in her seat again. 

‘Ampora's going to escort you, because he's the senior officer. We're going to stay with you the whole time until you're in your cell, and it's very likely we'll process your outgoing paperwork too. Try and answer short and simple if you get questions.’

You nod at Pyrope. It’s weirdly relieving to hear that you aren’t going to be completely ditched right off the bat. You know you can make it in isolation and you shouldn’t want to be near anyone in the first place because of the storm going on in your head, but you aren’t overly fond of being alone. You never have been. 

‘He knows how to answer questions, Red, stop fussing.’ Ampora parks and kills the engine. ‘You'll be fine. Just like summer camp, except less enforced glitter sessions. Even better than summer camp.’

You shake your head in disappointment. ‘And here I was hoping I would be walking around the place with glitter clogging my pores. How am I supposed to live out my Twilight fantasy now?’

The two cops exit the car and Ampora opens your door, reaching in to encourage your head to duck and offering his other hand for balance. You lean back and away on impulse when Ampora reaches in. Of course, you only manage to delay things for a few seconds by doing that. In your defense, you weren’t thinking that Ampora would actually reach for you. He doesn’t seem like a touchy guy at all. Sure, when it’s necessary, but you sincerely doubt that he goes out of his way to get his hands on people. 

‘This is what we get for bein' nice,’ Ampora grumbles. ‘Wiseass vamps playin' _Twilight.’_

'Shouldn’t you have expected this type of thing, though? Some vampires are just hardcore Twilight fans, I’m sure. You have to be on the lookout for that in this type of job.’ 

Pyrope stands on the other side of you, hand on her hip to demonstrate her willingness to use her shiny baton. Ampora keeps his hand firmly on your arm, just above the elbow, guiding but not dragging him along to an elevator. You’re tense, and it takes everything in you to resist the urge to do something rash because of it. 

‘It's not too busy at the moment,’ Pyrope says. ‘We had one pick-up before you tonight, so you won't be the only newbie. Maybe don't make friends with her though, she was a firecracker.’ 

‘Shut up, Red. Time can pass without you fillin' it with words.’

‘Sounds like she had to go out of her way to get a title like that in a place like this,’ you say, ignoring Ampora entirely. You’re not certain that it really applies to you, but you’re definitely not helping maintain silence.

Pyrope nods and winks in confirmation, but keeps her mouth shut and her stance correct as the elevator glides upwards. Ampora doesn't seem to think that requires a response.

You wonder how much shit you’re going to see here. It’s been easy to figure out that most of the cases that Pyrope and Ampora have brought in before you are far from tame and calm. You’ve seen vampires in movies and TV that are completely ravenous and feral, but it’s hard to tell how realistic that type of portrayal is. 

‘Look, I'm not disparagin' a near faultless piece of literature,’ Ampora says, continuing your conversation and causing Pyrope to break her military straight posture in order to gawp at him. You think you nearly get whiplash when you turn to look at Ampora yourself. ‘But the fact of the fuckin' matter is that reality's vampires aren't nearly as pretty as Twilight's.’

The elevator door opens and Ampora leads the way, hand still on your arm. The inside of the building resembles reminds you of a hospital a lot, though the death vibe you get from it is considerably stronger. There’s a reception area in the centre and rooms branching off in different directions. Though most hospital doors aren't made of steel.

You’ve never liked hospitals much. Not because of needles or death and sickness, but because you can count on them being colder than the inside of your refrigerator and their layout is almost labyrinthine. That’s the vibe this shares, without even the promise of healing. Well, depending on who you ask, you suppose.

You approach what would be a welcome desk in a place where "welcome" is an appropriate adjective. There's no one there at first, but Ampora hits a tiny bell with the heel of his hand and a large man with long black hair braided down his back approaches.

‘Room two,’ he says. ‘Room one is still ... occupied.’ 

Pyrope laughs, but keeps it under control unlike when you were in the car. 

‘She still won't put the clothes on?’ Pyrope asks.

Jesus. You’re aware that people are perfectly capable of acting batshit crazy all on their own, but it sounds like vampirism definitely adds to it. Maybe. You’ve read plenty of fucked up stories about incidents at hospitals. You’ll go ahead and assume that there are even more available about places like this. The man behind the desk frowns. 

‘I thought, for propriety's sake, I'd let you convince her, Neophyte.’

Ampora snorts and guides you towards a room marked with a 2. You follow Ampora to the room obediently. Like you have a choice in the first place, but you try to ignore the fact that you basically have no freedom whatsoever here. Fortunately, remaining calm seems to have its perks regarding being treated like a person. 

‘If general manners are anything to go off, I think you'll like this one more, Zahhak.’ 

Pyrope stays at the counter, pulling out paperwork while you and Ampora enter the room. Ampora closes the door and demagnetises your cuffs so you can move your hands independently again. He gestures to a pile of clothes that resemble the generic kind of scrubs nurses wear and leans against the wall. You almost groan. Comfortable, sure, but you’re going to look like an idiot. 

‘You have to change into those and hand over all your clothes. Apparently folks have made crossbows out of underwear elastic or some shit so we provide everything. If you'd rather Pyrope keepin' an eye on you while you change that's okay, but she's not any easier to overpower than me, I promise you that.’

You’re glad that you’re allowed to dress yourself instead of having to rely on someone else to do the work for you. You head over to the scrubs and start to pull your sweatshirt off. 

‘Do you really think I’m interested in attempting to attack you now? This is the least opportune place to do it.’ You drop the sweatshirt on the floor. Fuck, you’re cold. The clothes you’ve been provided with aren’t going to do anything for that. ‘And no shit. She’s clearly got nothing to lose. It’s fairly obvious.’

‘Gotta make the offer,’ Ampora says. His line of sight isn't directly on you, but you can see it’s just off to the side and ready to react if you do something stupid. 

You appreciate that he’s at least giving you some amount of privacy. You’re not a stranger to being naked in front of people you barely know by any means, but you aren’t generally looking to strip in front of cops. Or anyone, really, now that you’re dating Hal. God, that’s weird to think, but it’s good. Too bad that there’s an aftertaste of pain behind the feeling. You miss him. You can’t quite stop thinking about him. 

‘And these aren't birthmarks,’ he says, gesturing at the twin scars across his face. ‘I've never been attacked by someone who has the strategic upper hand, but you put a man in a corner and sometimes he takes his chances.’

‘Damn, really?’ you ask sarcastically. You step out of your pants and drop them on top of your sweatshirt. ‘I’m aware. If it helps put you at ease, I’m not interested in pulling anything like that.’ Well, instinctually you are, but you’ve got it under control. 

Once you have your clothes in a pile on the floor, you start to pull the scrubs on. In the back of your mind, you hope that you’ll be provided with a decent blanket. If you get one. If not, you’re going to become more acquainted with the chills than you’d like.

‘Leave your clothes, someone'll bag 'em up and keep them safe for you.’

You nod. You wish you could keep your sweatshirt. If you could, you would sign a contract stating that you won’t weaponize the strings or attempt to use them to fashion a particularly shitty noose. You can guess that vampires eventually become accustomed to constantly feeling cold, but that doesn’t help in the slightest. You’ve been spoiled up to this point with a living heater that’s willing to cuddle the cold out of you. 

You’re not going to be able to stop thinking about Hal. He’s been in the back of your mind the whole time since you left. When he hasn’t been completely dominating your mind, that is. You don’t know what they provide to keep people busy here, if anything. You know it won’t be enough to keep you from wanting him. 

Once he's done, Ampora remagnitises the cuffs together and opens the door for you to step through. Pyrope is leaning over the reception desk, but Zahhak looks unmoved by her flirty posture. She stands up straight again when she sees you approaching. 

‘It's nearly sunrise, so we'll try and get you through processing as quick as possible so you don't pass out on us,’ she says. You glance at the walls as if you can see the sky, but then you remember that this place was built to contain vampires. The odds of a single window existing here are low. ‘Zahhak's going to be your second, Dual, if I can't get the vamp in one to get dressed then I guess she's sleeping in the processing room. Mr Protocol here is having a conniption about that.’

‘Wait, so is it a real thing that vampires get magically tired when the sun’s up?’ you ask.

All three of the officers look at you with various levels of surprise. Pyrope tilts her whole head over with it, though Ampora and Zahhak are a bit less obvious. They’re basically looking at you like you’ve suddenly sprouted a second head, and you’re feeling a lot more self-conscious about what comes out of your mouth now. 

‘Thought you'd been a vamp for a few days,’ Ampora says. 

‘I have. I just assumed any fatigue was due to the complete molecular overhaul I had practically mauled into me.’

‘There are degrees to all the symptoms,’ Zahhak says. ‘I would hesitate to call anything certain. We will certainly test and educate you while you are here.’ 

Oh, tests. You are definitely looking forward to those now. You wonder what exactly those tests will involve. You’ll be the first to admit that you and all of society could use the education part. 

Zahhak moves out from behind the desk. He'd probably be a foot taller than you if he didn't round his shoulders like he's certain he's going to hit his head on doorframes.

He leads the way to another room, leaving Pyrope behind. You follow Zahhak into the new room and look over its contents. It has an x-ray, scales and a height chart. You really weren’t wrong to associate this with a hospital. Perhaps a prison hospital would be more fitting, though. 

Ampora gestures towards the height chart, saying, ‘Heels against the wall, kid.’

You stand in front of the height chart with your back to it and do your best to press your heels against the wall.

Zahhak notes down your height and nods to Ampora. You feel like a kid being guided through the steps prior to an appointment at the doctor, except none of this can be blamed on a simple cold or a case of the flu.

‘Scales,’ Ampora says. 

Your weight is displayed digitally on the front, so Zahhak doesn't need to get close to read it. He nods again.

‘Alright, feet on the blue, rest your cuffs here, keep still so we don't have to blast more radiation at you than necessary,’ Ampora says, pointing at the marked spots on the floor and the ledge to hold your hands. 

He steps behind a half wall with Zahhak, where Zahhak is already typing into a computer.

‘Sounds fun,’ you say. 

You step into the marked places on the floor and rest your hands on the ledge. You think you are beginning to feel a little tired now, but it’s nothing that concerns you. 

You stay where you are and wait for them to get this part over with.

Bright light scans over your body. It only takes a couple of seconds, and then the light stops with a loud click. You have to squeeze your eyes shut while the light scans over you. Becoming a vampire has absolutely screwed you over in the light sensitivity department. Luckily, the process is short, and the spotty vision it leaves you with is nothing that a few blinks can’t fix. 

Ampora steps out from the barrier immediately, taking you to a pair of chairs while Zahhak finishes up.

Ampora takes a electric blood pressure cuff from the wall and wraps it just above your elbow. It starts to squeeze and inflate, holding you almost too tight for a moment, and then exhales. 

‘Congratulations, you'd be dead if you were alive,’ Ampora says with wry humour. ‘Very normal for a vampire under stress conditions though. Let's get you into your block. We're done poking for now.’

‘What a shame,’ you reply. ‘Being undead is proving itself to be a real letdown.’ You nod. ‘Does this mean I can get this mouth-guard out?’

Ampora nods and stands up. Zahhak is finished with the computer now and you all walk back to the reception area together. 

‘Cuffs stay on, but the guard can come out. If you bite anyone, it'll become a permanent issue and you won't be getting cleared as quickly as I know you can be. Obviously.’

That’s a relief. You can deal with keeping the handcuffs on, but you’re eager to get this guard out of your mouth. You’ve managed fairly well with keeping your speech from becoming too impaired by the thing, but you would rather not have to speak around it in the first place. 

‘Am I allowed to take it out or do I have to let someone stick their fingers in my mouth?’ Seems somewhat counterproductive in the latter situation seeing as you could easily dig your fangs into someone’s hand. You’re going to assume it’s the former since you were allowed to put the guard in yourself. 

‘Wait 'til we're at your cell, but you can do it.’

You nod. You’re going to end up trying to chew through the guard at some point if you can’t get it off of your teeth. Thank fuck that you’re allowed to handle removing it yourself. You don’t want Ampora sticking his fingers in your mouth, and you’re willing to bet that the feeling is mutual. 

Pyrope is waiting for you at reception. She holds a piece of paper out to Zahhak. 

‘Sign please!’ she says cheerily.

He scans it and sighs. 

‘She's dressed now,’ Pyrope says defensively. ‘Though I'd appreciate the help carrying her to a block, she's heavy unconscious.’

Ampora laughs and then turns it into a cough without much subtlety. Zahhak is clearly not amused. You decide from the look on Zahhak’s face that it’s best to keep your mouth shut.

‘We'll leave you two to it,"’ Ampora says. ‘Come on, Strider, we might even get you into bed before sunrise.’

Ampora leads you down a different hallway and to another elevator. This one, just like the one from the car-park, is smooth and fast. He takes you to the level marked "3 - Residence" and away from "1 - Administration & Health". It could be worse. It could be "7 - Research". 

You’ve heard stories about vampires being tested and prodded. Some of them sound like bullshit, but you’ve read up on the sketchy shit the government’s done before. It might sound totally unbelievable at first, but you don’t think you would immediately dismiss it if you were told that vampire healing times and regeneration were being tested. 

From the elevator it's only a short walk to a cell and you stay silent. It's more modern and clean looking than what prison movies might suggest, but naturally there's no window and the door is a solid slab of steel Ampora unlocks with a keycard. He demagnitises your cuffs before holding out a tupperware type container for your mouth-guard.

‘You guys need impressions of my fangs?’ you ask sarcastically, dropping the guard into the container. It actually wouldn’t be surprising if that turned out to be something done here.

Ampora fits the lid back on the container and tucks it into his pocket. 

‘Yeah, and fingerprints and the rest.’ His hand's on the door of the cell and he's just about ready to leave it at that, but he hesitates. 

‘Pyrope and I are field agents, we're picking vamps off the street on the smallest provocation, I don't think you need me telling you that. Keep your fucking head down, I don't want to be putting you in cuffs again.’

Oh, so you were right. They’re going to use everything they can as a form of identification for you, and odds are that they will get a little extra as well, just in case. You don’t understand how people can call quarantine anything other than what it really is. You’ve never been to prison, you definitely don’t plan on going, but this experience is uncomfortably similar to what you know about prison. Some of that knowledge may be flawed and inaccurate—prison life tends to have just as many myths and inaccuracies surrounding it as vampires—but you can’t compare this to anything else. 

You nod at Ampora to show that you understand. He does what he needs to and leaves. The sound of the door closing is loud, and it penetrates deep within you. You’re not getting out now. You weren’t before, hadn’t planned on making things worse by trying to escape, but hearing and seeing the chunk of steel close in front of you effectively destroys any opportunity you may have had. You’re likely going to spend most of the two weeks you’ll be here confined to this room. It’s a somewhat claustrophobic thought, to say the least.

The room is dark. That tends to be the case when there are no windows present. It doesn’t affect you, though, and you can clearly make everything out. There’s a shitty little cranny that you suppose counts as a bathroom, only there’s no door. To your knowledge, your showering habits won’t be restricted, much to your relief. You don’t exactly dig the idea of communal bathing commonly displayed in prison shows. 

The bed doesn’t look comfortable. It’s small, and from the looks of it the blanket is way too thin to keep the cold away, but you don’t have anything better to do while you’re in here. You lay down on the bed and try to ignore the pang you get in your chest when you’re settled. 

Hal’s not here. He’s not going to be. It feels so wrong to not be able to wrap your arms around him. It feels wrong being away from him, like you’ve just left him alone and anything could happen while you’re gone. You’ve been trying to suppress the pain since Ampora and Pyrope arrived at your apartment, but now, when you’re alone and have nothing to distract yourself with, you can’t ignore it.

You need him. You need to be there with him, and you want to be so badly. Really, it’s your fault that you aren’t. You weren’t strong enough to keep things under wraps when Jade came over. Now you’re sitting here, and you don’t know for certain when you’ll see him again. There’s no guarantee that you’ll only be here for two weeks. 

You have this undeniable urge to protect him, to make sure that nothing happens to him. You can’t do that here, and it’s making your anxiety over the issue a thousand times worse. Yet you can feel a thick, heavy fog beginning to close in on your thoughts. You’re tense, you can feel yourself on the verge of slipping into panic, but fatigue is slowly enveloping you. You’re tired. A lot has happened in the past couple of hours. You don’t want to sleep, not without Hal. You don’t trust your dreams when you’re alone. 

Hal’s absence physically hurts. You’ve never had the best grasp on dealing with loneliness, but you think it’s worse when you’ve spent a whole weekend doing everything with him only to be pulled out and thrown in an empty cell. 

Your eyes are closing against your will. You don’t want to sleep. You’ve fought sleep off multiple times in the past. You even managed it after being turned. But Hal was there then. This is different. 

You’re cold and gripping the blanket so tightly that your knuckles turn white when you’re dragged down into sleep.


End file.
